Loon Lake

2

Come with me

Compute with me

Computerized she prints out me

Commingling with me she becomes me

Coming she is coming is she

Coming she is a comrade of mine

Comrades come all over comrades

Communists come upon communists

Hi. Hi.

We are here to complete our fusion

We are here to create confusion

Do you confuse coming with confession?

Do you fuel for nuclear compression?

I’m for funicular ascension.

Decline all word temptation

Define all worldly tension

Deride all prayerful intervention

Computer nukes come pray with me

Before the war, the war, after the war

Before the war the war after the war the war before the war

Disestablishes human character.

Computer data composes World War One poet

Warren Penfield born Indianapolis Indiana

City of Indians in the Plains Wars after the peace

City of Indians going about their business

Indian poets in headbands walking on grid streets

Secure in their city of Indian architecture of cool concrete

Bernard Cornfield Investors Overseas Securities

Data linkage escape this is not emergency

Before the war before the last war

A boy stood on the dirt street in Ludlow Colorado.

The wind of the plain blew the coal dust under his eyelids

The wind blew the black dust down the canyons of the Sangre de

Cristo. The clothesline stretching across the plain

The miner’s cotton swung its arms and legs wildly in the wind.

A miner’s wife stepped from a tent with an infant girl

suspended from her hands. She held the child beyond

the edge of the wood sidewalk over the dirt the dust blowing

back along the ground like hordes of microscopiccreatures running.

The infant’s girl’s dress raised under her arms

she hung from her knees and underarms

so as to have her hairless child’s fruit expressed

for the purpose indicated by the mother’s sibilant sound effects

punctuated with foreign words of encouragement.

The boy standing there happening to be there remained to watch

shamelessly and the beautiful little girl turned upon him a face

of such outrage that he immediately recognized her

willing white neck companion of the old monk it’s you

and with then saintly inability to withstand life she closed

her eyes and allowed the thin stream of golden water to cascade

into the dust where instantly formed minuscule tulips

he beheld the fruition of a small fertile universe.