David Schaefer

Blue Jays in Japan

                                                              Daniel Gohman  

                                                             Daniel Gohman  


Let us wed our fear of fracture  

To our faith in its ascent.


Strange cycles emanate from

The quarterback who is I.


Dark water, dark air,

Ungraspable exclusion,


Let me know the breeze

As it hungers through my diamonds.


Let me freeze in space

Like a queen of beasts,

Or else proctor

The next college entrance exam.


There are times when you wake

And with the buffeting reticence

That greets you like a nudist  

You must confer or else cave,


And that is how it is.


The early darkness drains

Its ancillary widgets:

A peacock from a pound of mirrors.


I, at the sounding gavel,

I, in the perfume of gauze,

Giddyup to droughts of shadow

Inopportune as the day is tangy.


For the moment, do not deprecate   

The xylophone

At the fugitive's potluck.


Try and dilate your zeros

To mention the proclaimed.


In the brass and balding turnstiles,

Beneath a peach-fuzz moon,

We giggle indiscreetly,


Each of us known and thirstless,

A fossil fracking the loom.

Bullet Trains of Mourning


A shadow bathes itself in every room

Like an addendum.


The calendar is as unknowable

As the eye of the bull.


I have gone and drawn water

From the illegible fountains 

With God’s impatience at my shoulders.


Dust poured from the ground like violet.


Your tongue, it becomes marrow.  

Your hands, bouquets of mine.


It is lovely waking up

To the embers of last night’s fire,

The door into the world

Slapping against its frame.


We are all gold and no forgetting,

A camera in a cask of apricots,

Roses wending from a rich man’s mouth.


Place the sieve over nothing but itself,

The echo will tear apart like a lime.


At night, touch the scorpion

Stoic on your stack of laundry, 


Where it will follow you deep into your sleep,


Where a cold blow of air

Will poison you completely,


And all of your love will remain.


David Schaefer lives in Austin with his dog Juliet. His work can be found in The Bridge, Forklift, Hobart and elsewhere.