On a volé un collier de perles de 5 millions

the scrap metal the tossed-aside reaches the river

which turns upright into a damp kind of sky

the woman is an instrument of the particular present     

zeroes & typographic pearls      quell across her breast

a pair of legs walking through that time 

& into her despair    the woman removes

her dress & we enter her mouth      we touch the doorknob

& wave goodbye to the ship with all our

triumphant tin flags       with all

our sorrowful hands & eyes

rain falling on the river & the beautiful girl

the cameraman visible in reflection      her hair

a perfect thundercloud hanging in midair from

a stone wall of large boulders snugged

wipe the sweat from her neck      a false city

peopled with model trains grows seasick as a fish as a

school of fish in a shaken aquarium near the light

moving toward us between crossed leaves

an invisible audience becomes trees her hair & her shoulders

moving above ground towards the city center a globe crushed

electric wire seen from a train      tallest building

pointing up & up to commemorate

the empire & how it shapes the water repeatedly

*note: the title of this poem is taken from Fernand Leger and Dudley Mitchell’s 1924 film, Ballet Mécanique

Snap! Snap! Snap!

by a safe I twitch at my mustache     

& sailor the gun through the air 

under where my shirt is there is laughter

the plane takes off from the kimono

& spreads the woman’s hand upon

the velveteen divan regarded by

two waistcoated men with a certain repetition

the cat walks by so larger than the city skyline

& the woman arrives behind a spangled curtain

first afraid      then sly & smoking like a cannon