I'm glad you're here. Thanks for stopping by.
there are these geese on the gray lake
and you’ve seen the single flash of lightning the wind
deep chimes a leaf dropping and more geese up there
this is just looking
with imaginary fingers: wind describing lake or reading it
across or away from
the deeply troubling
are not old
tense clothes and
the clothing is
grey thin thin
the clothing here
is held by
but not unattractive
winter this light
startles its legendary
as a reasonable
in proper scale
Having looked not enough at what the sad world presents
and tempted to turn to this less useful book of words,
he says Sand and River and names the kinds of them all
voices voices he calls them Voices calling numbers in
his sleep. A sliver of rippling sirens strewn with dog.
The heartache of an empire misunderstood over against
a risible scrim of noodles and hats, swastika languors,
paper burnt after kind poems departed. Some to the sun.
an orderly exit from the place
takes standing to a wicked extreme
anyone coming from out the hard choices
deserves a red gallop a flame
just up the hill now ready to make
a flower inhale any one of us enough
to refute an utter uselessness
the time it took to crush a broken reed
Closing the far-off, these exotic place names,
it had been a language of courses, understood
as finished, run to the last breath, then set
just so in the gravel lane where they kissed.
Set as blotches or a series of possibilities,
gravity smacks us to behave and imagine art
arrives any time always already pregnant with
what we guessed would simulate exhilaration.
appraising the precious: it hasn’t been earned
it: abundant fluidity profound and common singularity
you write this and say it you say this and write it:
try writing to order: try fitting it in edgewise
voices from the other room could only mean
the television has turned itself on again
in her blue hoody she’s guiding the mower
over the lawn. it is a hill and she struggles
all the way up then relaxes on the way down
good old fur shawl stiff
on a red satin hanger
humming in the breeze
they “have a language” immediate or at least on time
if you could stand up and read with skill the minutes
we have not been given the influence of our sayings
I put them on notice: to be interesting in good time
a counting couldn’t claim everything we needed
any more than looking could or any more than a
guess there’ll always be some horizon hung like
shabby cloth over an uncertain edge walking
it at risk is all you can do is all you need to
a piece of rock to hold in mind. part. of the larger
here. limestone possibly. shale with it. maybe three
hundred million years of lying about. as and. in the
whole. as if patient. to be held in human terms. this
steady strata confided. to eyes. deposited indirectly
steep in streams. of the blind flow. or stilted one.
a line of
After cat tried
we sat with short grass
that thing right next to stillness
one is expected to post somewhere
to confirm one’s social haecceity
that thing right next to stillness
So, Mr. Groovy. Denser, my photons are enough today. So,
tell me, Madame Minima (whose heart is jiggling in a
red bright can of Tomato Points) which epoch shall we
pick? The Agon of Chrysalis? The Pretenceous Devoidic?
I’ll meet you there. All done up in these Hesitation Blues.
If in our sleep say an arch. Built of perfect religion.
Then the shadow and the copper cup. Trestles over it.
I put my mind away again. Watch the beautiful river.
Last night the geese crooned. The crickets a chorus.
We believe in God. The word. And the subtle shove to.
Enjoy the limp of light. It’s a wrecked and splendid.
Day. In fact I’ll hymn it for you under here tonight.