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The Death of Bill Evans

Three inch caramel-colored field slug on its back, vibrating by the scraps of a big Amanita Muscaria It has eaten more than its size and now its true size in visionary trance makes me sad of my size — I can never eat enough of a higher order to trick the interior leper to the…

The Halt

The bricks pale, two by two, behind the fire Laid across dread-hot dragontails. One ear cocked for a free lance, you’re stalled Above — or no, below — tonight’s pyre Of loveknots quite untied in style. Whose scales Measure me? you ask. For that matter, inspire? Or so you’d write, set straight, complain To me…

In Case of Danger

                 I am sending my son an emergency survival kit:                        flares to light up wild mountainous terrain to searches in planes;            inscrutably furled space blanket, tested against exposure at Everest by recent explorers; small high-calorie ration to sustain one really strayed to the edge of the world. I include a…

Little Tricks of Linear B

           The beginning was the dream,            and the voice was a turban gourd.            A strum.            What are we hiding?            Our new bodies            born underground with pearls of old corn?            Our dry husks            on the winter-hard ground/ where            is the moment            between wet rotting            and ashy…

Villanelle

The building needs a few repairs — though some rooms are still comfortable and warm. Where is the landlord? No landlord’s there. A fire burned up the back stairs; we thought it was a false alarm. The building needs a few repairs. We thought “love” was a house of air: my hand got caught; you…

The Painted Bridge

It didn’t seem like history. Seemed, more expediency. . . . I’m walking to the beauty shop. On Rugby Road a fractured fume of sodden leaf and Phi Delts’ pizza lunch, and through the pane one of their rout, white-coated, hands behind, waits unattending in the wings, waits out the weary midday to the robust…

The Vigil of Parmenides

Self-stranded, in a raw strength Not untested but contained, cornered, He held himself at the poised heat Of that whitening hour when wind stirs, When it licks at his high ledge, laying tribute To the mute opening with a mild motion, Sighing itself through seeds and sweet herbs. For then, as a thirst joined at…

To The Skaters

Bound in my car, parallelograms of light shifting in front of me, red      & white, darkness coming on like a sock, the ankle of the day — I notice two skaters out on the perilous river where the ice wrinkles like agony on a face in shock —                  (daring, or indifferent? Their hockey…

Trees Listening To Bach

Overture. A shutter opens. Down Goes light. The Norfolk Island pine Potted in peatmoss breathes Deeply once; resigns itself on cue. Under the dimming dervish crown Extend now four, no, five fringed limbs (Twelve more hang groundward barely skirting trance) In stills — in stills that — yes! inspired Revolve and quicken. As though fingers…