The Sky Contains the Plans - Tapa blanda

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Matthew Rohrer is the author of The Others (Wave Books, 2017, winner of the Believer Book Award), Surrounded by Friends (Wave Books, 2015), Destroyer and Preserver (Wave Books, 2011), A Plate of Chicken (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2009), Rise Up (Wave Books, 2007) and A Green Light (Verse Press, 2004), which was shortlisted for the 2005 Griffin Poetry Prize. He is also the author of Satellite (Verse Press, 2001), and co-author, with Joshua Beckman, of Nice Hat. Thanks. (Verse Press, 2002) and the audio CD Adventures While Preaching the Gospel of Beauty. He has appeared on NPR's All Things Considered and The Next Big Thing. His first book, A Hummock in the Malookas, was selected for the National Poetry Series by Mary Oliver in 1994. He lives in Brooklyn and teaches at NYU.

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A TOY SPACESHIP CALLED

ALMOND CHICKEN

VS the Mega Gun. The Almond

Chicken wins. The Almond

Chicken VS the Disasteroid.

The Disasteroid is victorious.

The unopposed Disasteroid rips

through the Earth.

The Earth is smashed into a billion

tears. The tears spread

out across the sky.

From each little piece

of the Earth a toy space ship lifts off.

Revenge in its little heart.

AS I STEP INTO THE CHAMBER

OF OUR IMAGINED LOVE

my mind goes blank. What

was it I saw here?

Two giantesses striding

towards me? I had

the strange belief that things

like feathers were filthy for years.

Then someone handed me

a striped feather, a hawk,

and I woke up in a chamber

of bright clarity

from which I could see

how a June night at sunset

expands if you stare at it

and kind of swims in front

of your vision

and you can fall right into it

THE COUGHING BRINGS ME BACK

TO LEVEL ONE. I open my eyes.

The buildings are rubble.

The only people there are

wrapped around themselves.

Level one is acrid, the sound is whispers.

The color is broken. I switch

to level two. They worship

the flowers. They bear them

to the festival where the children

are already kneeling.

The horses are restrained

behind the dark leaves.

Level two is oppressive. I leap

to my death on level three,

where tall elegant ladies

cannot stand me.