Flowers for Algebra

The fabric wears the weather of our passings
meaning a car seat was the last thing
my ass touched x number of times as I made
my way toward various desires I would've
at various times depending on various substances claimed
were my destinies though chances are good
I would've just as easily claimed I was simply making my way
through women, for years I got daily outfitted
to climb Mt Endless Want by the fine folks
at Desperation Gear and when I wasn't trying
to wedge my ice pick into tricky, unyielding surface, wasn't
trying to pull myself up rock face + find new view
I was letting my life be licked on the Mississippi River
whose glory I believed in because of a book I didn't even
all that much like but which was, according to Ms. Walenta,
a classic, it took years to quit listening to white-haired
old folks about what constituted worth + classic and
on the river we tossed thick line around mooring cells
and rose with the water, this is the scene where
the water fills the lock and the 92 tons of boat rise
50 feet in nine minutes because the Army Corp of Engineers
and gravity and riverflow and so we rose, this is
the scene of a rising I took part in near-daily before
throwing my sun-stoked body each night at a vehicle's seat
and setting out with friends or solo to look for a realer rise
something after which riverflow + the miracles
of engineering would appear like tiny distant
details scribbled lightly on a map of a land
I'd finally made my way from.
Weston Cutter


Weston Cutter

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