from an end is the towards to


Hugh Behm-Steinberg





A gold wing, a redemptionary, there’s only

so many ways you know how to start that

doesn’t disperse what you’ve already begun.


Going to lead up to, going to be more metallic

next time, going to need different alphabets

to keep track of your rocks. You could stand


to lose a few, to lose a few, to lose a few rocks.

With your neck you could lose a few rocks. Always

standing up, always shaking, coming up for,


just invent telepathy and get it over with.


Scar path crookedness all the luck is

bad change your tactics renounce

capitalism start getting lower in your


grooves, in your back and forth doing as

some doors, arms up like the ancient bomb

arms down like the king of plumes, broad


space you have to go there quitting tomorrow

adjustable in those deals quitting now and

be the next smart guy, not like the other


smart guy, the one that got it in the neck.


Hurled late blooming hawthorn berries off the


steps and down to the antlers good for your heart

that’s a train who’s so distrusting doesn’t choose

without thinking about, keeps thinking the same


thoughts until they’re right, inventor of dreams,

crocodiles blocking the way, protecting their kids;

there’s so much tall sweet grass to go through:


sing backwards, never going to do this again, never

going to do this again, never letting anyone know

how many of what you got in your pocket.


Climbing central with landscape. Their leaves

their lookback it’s all so fucking so. Dial upon

the droning tendernesses the mostly other. These


tugs, their rare absences, it was simple like the way


time moves boats against, you have to stop living

in dread, have to stop hearing it all the time so

washed away hearing it all the time then light is


a part of the rest is dark ticking, contractions,

unknown nerves that signal through parts of

the body that don’t belong to you.








Hugh Behm-Steinberg the author of Shy Green Fields (No Tell Books) and The Opposite of Work (JackLeg Press), as well as three Dusie chapbooks, Sorcery, Good Morning! and The Sound of Music.  He is a steward in the Adjunct Faculty Union at California College of the Arts in San Francisco, where for ten years he edited the journal Eleven Eleven.