Fogland

Beating up the ethereal slaw
my greens bleat for days,
call on structure, see only sound
then stub toes. In strange animal juice
I go out for a pay stub,
come back wonder ridden,
rid of it: the built I donít know
the go-it-may get me gone.
See grey. See few pounds of flesh
to save. To say this
coin wants sea. And did not you
go hard to wander?
did not you go blunder
enough, I say. How to wake
to anything that holds spring
like mirror that rung out
goes calorie hopping
in death scene, forms line
for met mind-me-theys.
Theys I have had time
to misunderstand, to see half
rung. Then I turn so often stop and stump
and wonder in clear tuning
whenís this dewy instrument finally sunk?

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Mike Krutel is the author of the chapbook Best Poems, published by Narrow House. He is a co-curator of THE BIG BIG MESS READING SERIES, and an Assistant Editor for the online poetry journal Pinwheel. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Coconut, Stoked, Jellyfish, Forklift, OH, and NO÷. He lives in Akron, OH.