A year before I found what was new: a stream sizzled over stones, August heat rattled the ocean’s brittle edge like a loose pane, a field where weeds like needles poked the wool of thick air. Usually eyes say no to thorns and stick to roses. Today even you saw that ponds brim with sky…
1 Like a transparent tooth In a myth’s mouth I sang of words in words That had no foretell 2 I was the closest relative To the one who never existed That absent autumn drops Its cease-colored nets on oh 3 Ever-so-longing I lay Spanking my placenta plate In curtseyland I’ll stand now Groundswell gate…
A barn owl for an m’s a funny way to run an alphabet tho The merciless talons’ grid over a foot square A white whoosh a juju all eyes & feathers & bless your magnanimity, Kenneth, your immortal artifacts, wine and bread
1 april: that point from which the temperate world ripens and suspends and leaves itself behind. a man hangs by one hand from the slender branch of his life. even his children he has cautioned away from that tree: the early apple, not long before blossom, the one the bluejays always get the fruit of….
Eyelashes did their job: they lengthened the afternoon, like a dress hem. Then that night the hem began to rise, in stages revealing scenes from my shameful life. Those calves up which the hem reproachfully rasped, catching, lingering over the ugh pictures did belong to a woman or were they mine— I hid my eyes….
An hour before sunrise, The moon low in the East, Soon it will pass the sun. The Morning Star hangs like a Lamp, beside the crescent, Above the greying horizon. The air warm, perfumed, An unseasonably warm, Rainy Autumn, nevertheless The leaves turn color, contour By contour down the mountains. I watch the wavering, Coiling…
Spring is still the groundswell of your body heaving up from its wildly patient sleep. I can’t explain that, but know why we imagine for the dead a life without desire—so they will not want ours. Palimpset of smoke, you’re blown past recognition into mere expectancy, the place a rock was, a pure attitude of…
Perched on each others tongues To fly Where now are the angels In what pursuit plunged vaporously Who late will sniff your crotch for eternity The wind is rising The diamond that divides the faces of a wound The surface of our planet should be waxed To make the wind go faster Than the windmills…
Leaving here, I slip out the gates of the palace garden as autumn stuns the trees with remembrance and makes them come around again like a memory of dervish flutes. In my mind I hear the word perfect. My feet touch down into cool…
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