David Bradford 

The Sun Set 

and I liked it 

Everything now is 
Language : Fat deli 
pickle jars : Cot myrtle 
  and bog : Hot 
moonbeam in the mouth 

Compost speckling off 
A last sputtering minute : Down
out a ripped up puff jacket :
Tickling the larynx : Feathers
and sparkling : A quiet : Is 
finally garbage : Ready 
to fly away 

Welcome to the dark side 
Energy good 
You can eat with my face

Barns Are Painted Red Because 
of the Physics of Dying Stars 

I keep staring the notes gotta 
mean something in a minute 

Spangler’s doily Doggerel on the lake 
Make a day of a wool habit 

Now the Tate leads to the 
NY library leads to Spitzweg  
Beltracchi wisakedjak 
to muskrat to gray jay  
Pitt shirtless in Fury 

  Becomes no shame in sequence 
Clear your history anyways 

Stay Focusd Bishop sequins  
Ship Hitachi to girlfriend 
Say rue full not rue flay  

And do your to-do list Eat this chicken 
like a chicken mechanic 
  Make your mouth a wrench 

Note desire for more cows is  
the smart translation of war  
  in Sanskrit I love that 

  I’ve missed being wanted 

Her mouth sweetly on  
about grool and the sheets 

 and two puppies and a sausage link 

 Softly 56 nucleons 
 
Softly We’re out of milk 

Get eggs while you’re at it 
 
gently pets me out of bed

Wipe 

to read cat person  
or just lie here  

coffee’s rocky cane
sugar down my chin  

canola under the
sole tree in a big field  

like a roof meant to
soak thru its all moving  

limbs a cinema verily
a crispy happening  

two piece before the rain 
I eat very slowly  

tender clucking as it 
shrinks honey dripping 

lines one bite at a time
run over my thigh bones  

brimming as a birdbath

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David Bradford is a poet and editor based in Tio'tia:ke/Montréal, on the unceded territory of Kanien’kehá:ka Nation. His first book, Dream of No One but Myself, is forthcoming from Brick Books.