Jared White
By Me and Someone Else


Annhoffer creations. Me and another
A particular code understands.

Codex sounding like the corporate
Gardener gone south by southwest

In the direction of ideology, ripples
In the water under cracking ice

Where the level fell. Enigma by
Annhoffer where the right brain

Zigged. Enigma by. Now it makes
A math from the reeds and the grasses

I'm mowing. One stalk in my teeth,
Annhoffer and miscreant. Like Adam

I accumulate epithets. Accumulate
Anothers. These successive clippings

For Adam and Co. Adam and Sons,
By which we mean psychology of

Women offended and/or brightly.
Either a metaphor is hiding or

Lacunae. I'll say it if you don't:
Annhoffer by fiat. Do you create

Beauty first or ideas, forgetfulness
Or forgetting? Like a calligrapher

Dragging a bough over arrows
In watery mud. Caw, Annhoffer.

Every crumb has a crow's name on it
And every crow has a name or two.

Annhoffer, Adamish. The animals
Are especially anthropomorphic today.

The people, as usual, even more so.


Epiphany or Quidditas


I'm unformed like unfrozen
Frozen berries. Not exotic fruit.

None of them in this palpated
Organism. I am inside the call

And response to evil times.
Also too short. That makes me

No hero. Morning's meeting
Or understudy to seconds. Listen

Closer. I suggest that you lean in
So when I shout I will deafen you

And titter. That's when you'll start
To learn about the hardship of

Thinking better. Me in the pantry
As your sous-chef. At junior high

Carrying your book-bag, blushing.
Savor the science of imagination.

I will never tell you who I am,
Really. A Chinese wall erected

Between me and that. Exotic
Natural landscape of berries,

Crag, dogwood and fleshly
Me. I always had a tendency.


Someone Recognizes Him


I sent you letters telling you I'd be away. I suppose overhead, the eagles circled
And underground, the mice whimpered. I hewed a fine profile into the rocks

Or delegated the profile. No job was too unseemly. There used to be boundaries
But I was mysteriously cured in the south. We rounded a cape and saw no more

Of civilization. In my apocalyptic vision, nothing changed. I went to the tropics
And blended in with the hordes. I was constantly undermining expectations

With a cough and a hiccup. Brandished a broomstick. There's a common fallacy
That what you hear makes good evidence. Am I too young to be disenchanting?

On the mountaintop an arrow points somewhere. This hill or that one. Gestural
As what I was saying, whereas this happened before. Those infamous ladies

Are whispering about your figure. They give their skirts a whirl and scoff
Into the veldt. It's easy to be judgmental but how about imagining growing up

Without technology to intervene. An endless amount of walking in the country
Couldn't make up for this afternoon. Whose work involved mere sitting?

If I knew, I'd tell you. The prettiness of me could generate a way to conceal
My bafflement at everything I witnessed during the end as I felt this must be

If it wasn't an experiment in factoids left behind by vulgar opportunists.
Late at night, I decided. I wrote down a set of observations on the violets of

The third world. If I was going to surrender, then I would do it with a style
High and careworn. I'll trade you a cigarette for a story. When we sunk

I was elated. Already I had done what I set out to do, had a bit of fun with a
Terrible aftertaste. No, you're right, it won't work out, but yes, it can't be tested.