Joe Hall
Da Fugue Zone #76: Wheels

we had to bike down Rohrer for the plant burger, we had to see the long legs
of the man flung out from his chair in the green shady lawn of a derelict
house down the giant wounded sycamores of Rohrer
you said you weren’t working by the fountain saucer
of Schiller Park, biked by TVs that blew their brains out, masked
and 6 ft apart on a bench, rhubarb chutney, sorrel
spelling out with your hands a soil delivery, this is on
the cross-town train, the sunlit fog, the mist bleeds bread
TVs w/their brains smashed out, in the reborn green, dumplings
w/dumpster-dived pork, was it a clarinet or an accordion
softly pressed, cars streaming weed inside the crisis
anger and a reflective ease down the worn-out houses of Rohrer
beans and roasted cauliflower in the train
the blue tracks that run under the crumbling, down
into olive oil where black eyed peas swim, bread and bike wheels
the pea of mist bleeds bread, practice and naïve or easy fix
Da Fugue Zone, Da Fugue Zone #76

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Da Fugue Zone: Process Note #6
for Jay Besemer

how many wounded people have I spoken
to today, how many ppl touching
the wound as its image floats
in oil, & try to explain the wound but
J says the wound is the wound [image
of opening space, that
evokes nature, moss, but is
absence] there: the wound & though
you try to avoid it, beauty can stalk you
beauty can strike you down
I find myself drunk [image:
sudden scattered light] on
the wound to avoid it [image: self
disavowing self] the wind: there