CNN.
They invent like a white one struck,
like a white one struck on the head in snow then blood.
She said I find you startling, him startling.
Just as if he was a word, that casual and deceptive.
Birds, powder, or commotion, as if or and then.
What should I tell him?
He taller, daily me lying down so as not to be unusual
and on television, television.
Someone had exploded on television, on CNN,
and no one was saying anything with such intensity.
It was alarming.
Some giant stunned head by oblivion on CNN.
A man had opened himself to the light
and gone forth from his unfamiliar home.
I was immediately lit like a showcase.
I was reading.
I was thoroughly watching television.
I was synchronized.
I was abandoned.
But I love it when the door slaps
open blocked with abrupt light and knocks before entering.
What should I tell my son that a man might
tell his son on television?
Television.
Outside the late afternoon light of October
I'm guessing, because of the elms
in New England and the general closing
down that suggests emotion.
I invent like a white one struck and then askew.
September, I remember in September the leaves just
seemed to give up, days forcing an apparently colorful
countryside.
We could kill it, then hide in, then live in.