Formatting issues

I can't seem to get my weird spacing poems to format on this supposedly foolproof blog, and for that reason may stop posting the poems here. Rest assured that I am writing daily poems (as I know you were fretting about it).

Red Town #27

Red Town #27

In the almond—what stands in the almond?

The Nothing.

In the almond stands nothing.

There it stands and stands. –Paul Celan

If I put it on my skin it won’t tell you who I am

skin designs light light fading the arm nearly

transparent with a dark room behind it

if I put this on my skin it tells a story there

is a story about a stove and what is behind it

a man leaning toward me a girl made of

feathers a girl could be me hoarse

barking white trees here is the story

Red Town #26

Red Town #26

The goat song begins and there is very little laughing

some pretending some being church camp

begins and there is a light green ice over everything

frozen parachute light dimmish gray shoes

hooting pine needles oil soaked tent and sleep

light going away of course golden fields become

tired children dirty girls and mosquito boys

the sleep is where we find it a packed mouth

insolent brimming with tree stuff the sleep

is where we find it violet underneath picture

what is to come now out there in the dark we

go up and don’t understand too far from our outcomes

too alone in these branches and a good deal of paradise

Red Town #25

Red Town #25

The deer is there frozen

solid. There is a light

shining on it and it’s in

a dark neighborhood,

someone’s backyard

in the city. It isn’t difficult

to make the deer, or

anything else, look mystical

and important. It can fool

you into thinking you

understand beauty. But that’s

ok. One could describe life

in this way: fooled by beauty.

Or like this: a deer in a spotlight.

I’m in the house

somewhere, trying to stop

seeing so much. And you’re

there too. We are both

there and we’re made of light.

Red Town #24

Red Town #24

Now I know, sometimes I was a rooster, sometimes a roe. -Tomaz Salamun

I think roofs because I see roofs. There are four

approaches to this life I lead. This one is plastic.

Inside there is a jewelry store and I get things appraised.

In this kind of store you lie down and have the things

brought to you. Some look like jewels but really

everything is homemade money. I am given

the envelope by a man with an antelope face

and go out into the world. I buy hooks, children,

and barking. When I have everything I lie down

again and wait. Even the sky is brought down to me.

They make a new kind now, a lightweight lead.

There are only about four things in my world. One is

a gentle man who takes me into a red heaven.

We are the only creatures there.