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Two Poems: About
Video store, web design,
waitress at pub...
The distance is where home is.
I'm most inside when it's distance
I'm walking through.
Two women
looked at the man equivocally.
This is preferable to the mission statement.
On the table the mission
is small and white. The dog on the floor
has a white spot.
The dog's mission
is written on the spot. There is mission
in distance. Complete
in the thing unseen.
Of what to become,
a question of lights.
Two Poems: Beat
The beat was an egg
smashed on the head
of you, the girl who lives
next door. No longer
are you interested in truth;
rather your body stretches
all the way north
with being. My dog
looks at me from between
his paws and I see how he's
a wolf and doesn't quite
know it yet because
he's my dog. We are both
wolves and we only
glimpse that fact from time
to time when we're
away and alone. The greatest
work out there I believe
is the work that hammers,
the how of the whole
thing, how this serves us
before and after we're dead.
Then it meets us
in its whole unripened form.
Ferocity isn't a condition,
it's the way you grind
tooth against tooth. Look,
you're hiking up your shorts
and the smoke rattling
inside your alveoli
sounds like the day
you dove for pearls
in the lagoon of combustion
and eels. When did we lose
what we loved and how
do we know it
in the end so we can pause
and ask why.
The teeth of the umbrella
were sharp and they bit down.
James Grinwis' poems have appeared or are forthcoming in such magazines
as
American
Poetry Review, Hayden's Ferry Review, Prairie Schooner, Conduit, and
Indiana
Review.
In Posse:
Potentially, might be ... 
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