This is for my memory
in the event
a bird is on
the lawn
and I forget
to tell you that
it’s growing
not exempt
there’s no exemption
in my hearing
I read on
keep going
stay loose
there’s no telling
an evil cloud
horizon like only
two or three feet
from your face
thunder rolling in saying
you need to build
not dread
because it’s serious
you are serious
drunk in the day
in the hot sun
with a good friend
we’re all wearing too much clothing
these kitchens beaming
back at us
we’re dying
to know the first
thing we did was ask
good question
this event is for the bird
a growing drive
I’m telling you
there’s no going
dread to drunk
the lawn’s on fire
world’s watching
I’m good at it
watching television
your face is saying
thunder is hard weather
you need signals
but don’t provide them
in the event
that this is
my memory
how will I know
what to make
of the mood
of an eagle
for the prey
unaware of you
as predatory
just not seeing
you that way
like you want to just be friends
but for the scorched
earth I could not have
known you could have
loved me
you’re this beaming
hot question
not no
no nothing
like that
royal lawn
palace of what there is
to see
as a spectator is
to a stadium
me and you.

Seth Landman lives in Northampton, Massachusetts, and is a member of the Agnes Fox Press collective. His first book of poems is Sign You Were Mistaken (Factory Hollow Press, 2013). He has work forthcoming in Robot Melon, Noo, Verse, and Columbia Poetry Review. He works as an Academic Advisor at UMass, Amherst, and writes about fantasy basketball on With the poet Seth Parker, he collaborates on Tyoyeu (@tyoyeu &