  A Valediction I’ve had it with your sass Metatron. Walk west till your hat floats. Let us now clink glasses in mutual warmth and glows without number. And I say unto you let’s hit it till it hits back. Chilblains for currency secondo be the last Brief moon and some sun Stars starry star. Any Day Anywhere Pick a famine any famine  Gentle a welt enschauung What changes from blue to red To make you alert to make you notice The leveled barrel and glass by your boot That I speak to you only in my sleep Hustling nekyia among little terms For a structure grows its own controls Gutters slosh with or without me And the proof is the same A rag covers my face First last end uring embrage The Last of The First of The Last  Conversazione you can't barge  In here without permission  I'm deeply sick of you  And want to be left alone  Lorn not crazy  Waiting for the sky  To sur render  You spin and your  Hair spins with you  Fire your flies all you want  It won't change things  O grace that I miss  O hunger skipped  My very own Alecto  Tighten the screws a bit  I'm starting to get soft  Under the overpass  Heliotaxis is the only job  A necessary trip or function  The real cause and ruction  Of all this movement  Never is always  Is the genius loci  Of this field of fire  I've made this saftey  Ex gratia exactly  Cheers to a mobacracy  The main spring done sprung  I'm going to sink my teeth in you now  Warm and friendly  Comb the barbiturates  Out of your hair  And climb in the car  My love we've got  Aways to go yet  Despite the calendar  Or phenomenon  So I'm a heresiarch  So what?  This idiolect will last as  Long as it needs to  A switcheroo a switchblade  I held you dear in the late  Morning of this thing  Short shadows are guessed  Growing longer is assumed  In all sincerity  Put on your gym shoes  And kick rocks  An S carved into flesh  A stereopticon for heritage  Thanks for treat ing me so well [This poem first appeared in Zone.] Space Show Johnny Reb needs light in some Indiana where the peepholes go only so high. Numbers fade over photos of farm heroes and we keep tossing the last cash to a grand cross and vapor lock. O vaticide makes it easier to know the tricky legends of truckstops and hanging usable light. “To get the value you gotta chew it.” Then the fingered shadows of the only red chapel which turns out to be a smut shop one hundred miles from anywhere. Even bombed with the new decency chords are no match for a starved Solyma chasing the animal down. For every seven crashes two make it through. The old math of the New World is welcomed at motels and bars and cops sail out beautiful as wishes into a trainwhistle night. At every summer empty lot the starts calm o plea o stranger [This poem first appeared in Interim.]  

My Bear

is alive and well

through grayness

through whiteness

and the gleam of

yon snow hill at

three a.m. when

light is like that

and the city is quiet

and weather is personal

just then soundless through

whiteness the punch is a

prowl and the flash is that

one green nominating sleep

for me the curl is precious

then it's a We for the slinking

through grayness through

whiteness the smallish

bearish brow indicating the

house's mood as we fly past

the XYZ's possibilities the old

bear blinks in the sun through

whiteness through grayness

through greeness in a window

shading the show

My Death

I can’t keep up
with you

Blank
place

Among the ashtrays
and haloes

My pet looks at me
with absolute love

And I look
back what

stars
yet
their moon

Yours is
warmth without
coins

A poem I
never write
right

How To Build A Creature

Like Villa Jovio
assumed to be

Tiberian in the
old sense

Gaius becomes
Caligula

Known by tracing
water down

to be inscrutable
and humble

Of depth
like a dog

Without a bone
I buy my face

Letting you
fry

Enyalius

From Hunger

With aes alienium
I'm healthy as a
horse

Led to the
glue works

Dissolve
and slide
under a door

All gold is
born in super
novas

And I've got
these henhouse
ways

Ruined by tall
doors and short
shades

Pass the amphora
Clotho, Lachesis
and Atropos

You bitches got
some explaining
to do

A Valediction

I’ve had it with your

sass Metatron. Walk

west till your hat floats.

Let us now clink glasses

in mutual warmth and

glows without number.

And I say unto you

let’s hit it till

it hits back.

Chilblains for currency

secondo be the last

Brief moon

and some

sun

Stars starry

star.

Any Day Anywhere

Pick a famine

any famine

Gentle a welt

enschauung

What changes

from blue to red

To make you alert

to make you notice

The leveled barrel

and glass by your boot

That I speak to you

only in my sleep

Hustling nekyia

among little terms

For a structure grows

its own controls

Gutters slosh with

or without me

And the proof

is the same

A rag covers

my face

First last end

uring embrage

The Last of The First of The Last

Conversazione
you can't barge

In here without
permission

I'm deeply sick
of you

And want to be
left alone

Lorn not
crazy

Waiting
for the sky

To sur
render

You spin
and your

Hair spins
with you

Fire your flies
all you want

It won't change
things

O grace that
I miss

O hunger
skipped

My very
own Alecto

Tighten the
screws a bit

I'm starting
to get soft

Under the
overpass

Heliotaxis
is the only job

A necessary
trip or function

The real cause
and ruction

Of all this
movement

Never is
always

Is the
genius loci

Of this
field of fire

I've made
this saftey

Ex gratia
exactly

Cheers to a
mobacracy

The main spring
done sprung

I'm going to sink my
teeth in you now

Warm and
friendly

Comb the
barbiturates

Out of
your hair

And climb
in the car

My love
we've got

Aways
to go yet

Despite the
calendar

Or
phenomenon

So I'm a
heresiarch

So
what?

This idiolect
will last as

Long as it
needs to

A switcheroo
a switchblade

I held you dear
in the late

Morning of
this thing

Short shadows
are guessed

Growing longer
is assumed

In all
sincerity

Put on your
gym shoes

And kick
rocks

An S carved
into flesh

A stereopticon
for heritage

Thanks for treat
ing me so well

[This poem first appeared in Zone.]

Space Show

Johnny Reb

needs light

in some Indiana

where the peepholes

go only so high.

Numbers fade

over photos of

farm heroes

and we keep tossing

the last cash

to a grand cross

and vapor lock.

O vaticide

makes it easier

to know

the tricky legends

of truckstops and hanging

usable light.

“To get the value you

gotta chew it.”

Then the fingered

shadows of the only

red chapel

which turns out

to be a smut shop

one hundred miles

from anywhere.

Even bombed

with the new

decency

chords are

no match

for a starved

Solyma

chasing the animal

down.

For every seven

crashes two make

it through.

The old math

of the New World

is welcomed

at motels

and bars and cops

sail out beautiful

as wishes

into a trainwhistle

night.

At every summer

empty lot

the starts calm

o plea

o stranger

[This poem first appeared in Interim.]

Sundin Richards' poems have appeared in Girls With Insurance, Zone, Colorado Review, Interim, Volt, Cricket Online Review, Elixir and Western Humanities Review, where he won first place in the 1999 Utah Writers' Contest. His book The Hurricane Lamp is forthcoming from Otis Nebula press. He lives in middle class squalor in Salt Lake City. All of his time is spare, but none of his change.