by Andy Andersen
The weight sings
engraving – paving – waiting
with faulty new cameras
The camera sleeps,
though she is erotic,
she sleeps and sleeps
sleeps with no one
outside the realm of art
and outside the realm of art,
though greater than or equal to
the painter’s weight,
walk the mother and her glasses
and her son and his little cape
and I cry and sing,
O Heavenly Father,
this is a story