the book of smaller

by rob mclennan

from the book of smaller

The President’s House is empty

Corollary. Endured, a whitewash. Literally. A golem’s chance. Not just him, though you have marked. Resist! Is neither obsolete. We will not fall. An empty chamber, fueled. All strapped. Collective impulse, impulse, falsehood. Airbrushed, pitch. Convulsed. An east wind, furthers. Contradicts. This area, distorts. An oval rounds out, shimmers; misshapes. Bends. Such will. A hundred thousand hopes subject to fail.

The Prime Minister’s House is empty

The closest renovation. Upgrade. The great white hope. Façade. Gorffwysfa. Do designations matter? Set foot, first. Of rest, and residence. A clear day. Fluid dynamics; a basic foundation. The art of weaving. Hallowe’en. Will never accede to the body. Scaffolding. A bureaucratic, function. Cottage. Reconcile, please. For real. Be truth. They drain the pool.

Forty–seventh birthday

My annual nod, to origins. Pixilate. Birth mother: does she think of me? Ancillary. The compass hand. Water, such a fine conductor. Diction, sketchbook, herringbone. How we have each contributed to the meanings of words. If age a power source, of wisdom. Hardly. What’s that? Speak up, the cover band a set list. Don’t worry about all the problems in the world right now. Overheard: I love Tom Petty. A note that ends in tragedy. I think I finally understand. We have chicken wings, at least.

Self–portrait, extant

Exhaustion sets in. Accelerated meaning. By too lean a mix.  True, that. Am I not human? Green is the news. A narrative beckons. Absolute. Crossing a surface. Blood in the water. What I can relate to. Hard–core. What is interesting, conceptually. The universe: folds, and unfolds. We pretend we’re the centre. We have to. Take every precaution. Don’t cry. Our tomatoes, abundant. Despite our best efforts. Hold on. Hold. Listen. There was a light inside that. One can’t help but notice.