Dec 31, 2014 | Uncategorized
121.
The mystery of when this must be said
lungful of particulars maiden voyage
each thought in your hair
over the frozen lake a childhood
spell a letter read
a breath from their mouths condenses
on St. Peter’s dome
we break our vows by silence wet
tongue of the beast
Anglican hollyhocks rise by the stone
Buddha
I can’t remember to dissemble this
self no I
I spend my day interrogating ocean
my nights parsing my interrogations
drink soup with me breadcrumbs on the
snow
a bird will follow them to the open
book
always contradict the weather the
Cross is contradiction.
122.
Long day to celebrate the light
knows what’s coming a colonnade in
hemisphere
to catch a solar system in your back
yard
southern somehow arrogance to kiss
the wind
I fought against me all my life and
lost
nearby on the longest day a sheet of
light
we saw it slice down into the forest glade
pagans these days more pious than
Christians
the earth asks more of us than Bible
does
stand up and be shadow wield the axe
of light
horns of a bull wit of the woman
pluck
flowers out of nowhere and braid them
in your hair.
Dec 30, 2014 | Uncategorized
1.
Measurable the music
forensic afternoon manuscript
who murdered the morning
alter your A’, scriptor,
get ready to wedge them down
into the welcoming silent matter
that brain below the brain
sympathy is union with the dead
peachpits germinate next spring
in a tune like this
nothing gets lost neither
sorcerer nor saltimbanque
a child chided before supper
wants to go home but is home
woe woe a foundling feeling
can you get over it?
personality defects hypnosis heals
to be in your hands though
drink from earth’s hollows
you replicate by anatomy
a child and an encyclopedia
2.
incurious pharmacy of oil
sandalwood I learned to sew
lions roamed that city when
medical issues glamorous therapist
cool fingers on the swamp of my brow
healing is happenstance alone
crystals by the Keekenhanna
cure the wound by waterfall
into the stone the illness falls
water tells more than the land knows how
exercise the spirit that glossy colt
be quicker in it,
be mercury
no one will be there when I look
opened this door a thousand times
fumble the light switch temple maiden
you need a shave she plainchanted
olives red crush beneath our feet
the inward moment springs on us
one more lion to ride home
you speak their language with your knees
that was the hegemonic greeting
kissed her shadow so she spoke
the words for once don’t count
but I will tell thee them
what counted was her breath
upon my temporal-parietals
what she said was Mind this matter
3.
imagine we had done this long ago
gotten to the quick of questions
and touched the silent matter then
not waited all those years of who are you
but plunged all wet through the crazy gate
wise houses waiting to teach us a story
far away to our very selves
think of the children in the quince trees
all chattering in Welsh we’d be
and no one to gainsay our games
Principessa Salome you slew
my image quenched it in your own
kissed my dead lips till they spoke
and everything was language once again
no more damned music
I am afraid of being about things
want only always to be from them
from them all the way to thee
your ear your easy rapture
and all the children waiting to be fed
hasn’t the sunshine said enough?
4.
the fewer words that answer far
legible at close quarters chapped skin
imponderable yesses and no wonder
questions seem to be part of the sky
his business with Gaea and all the green
and scarlet things are answers to
whom was happy as a drug can make
a friend a beach
a nightingale
uncaged in Switzerland, yes you
ride my pony far as please
different faiths for different miracles
blue light deep in my mother’s diamond
first time I saw it, look for it always
sick eyes among the lilies from Peru
stanchions hold foot traffic back
one league southeast the raven croaked
a town grows from a raven’s wing
a town is a bird’s shadow solid grown
I walked until I found a field
and there you were guised as shadow
guised as ten thousand stalks of corn.
Dec 29, 2014 | Uncategorized
I lag behind the utmost grammar
the truck squeals out when it backs
up
lost without prepositions if no
angels were
the operators do not believe in their
machines
a Vatican of leaks inside your
cellphone
but you don’t believe me when I call
because calling is its own thing,
calling is God
and you always think I have some
other motive
I have no motive I am motive I am
mind
so make room for me in the caravan
across the Sahel because I am also
salt
a word in your mother’s mouth you
hear in dream.
120.
Seminivores all over beaks and tiny
talons
when you see a bird in flight in
truth it’s flying through you
the hollow places in your
close-packed chest his fly-zone
so hurried and so gone by, a clifftop romance
the pale-eyed ghost sits on the
inspector’s lap
left alone the little dog howls
harrow harrow
moon phase sundial water from the
rock
endless embassies of birds at sunset
crisis
they go so fast no one knows where no
boasting
and if the mind be separate from the
brain how wise they are
and we too with our fidgets of the
flesh
inferring trajectories that lead
beyond the real.
Dec 28, 2014 | Uncategorized
115.
The priest slept through my
confession
so my words went straight to sky
the little sky inside the heart I
feel you here
the sentimental sinner cried the
ferry left
the harbor suffused with nightingales
from somewhere else
stop being continuous already the
truth is made of broken glass
rose petals we nibbled from the rocks
quotations from Montaigne a clamshell
cracked
a cardinal singing from what is that
an apple tree
the day left-handed the ragged sky
Guantanamo
clouds can only tell so much but more
than we
there is a cruelty in America we must
delete.
116.
Try against the cruel cry we have
rights but no right
what sunrise does to morning glass
you do to me
the sentimental agents spoil our feed
all that nostoc dripping from the
night
listen to the cupboard the dishes
tell the story too
the star-sperm settling slowly while
you sleep
and the cup left in the sink to soak
the herb stains out
each thing knows some part of the
situation
the battered hulk this boat you call
the truth
leaking its way from Portugal full of
opera singers
priestesses on hilltop canoodling
with the dawn
this vessel trembling in my civil
hands.
117.
This is the dawn of ceremony the
clement word
when all men and women open their
mouths and say
the truth that only they can know
each one a part of
we need them all we need them all to
speak
until every man and woman is a
prophet we know nothing
leave piety learn prophecy say what
you don’t know
each one has words enough to know
what he doesn’t know
they don’t all have to love you they
just have to speak
language will not really work till
everyone has spoken
then we’ll really learn what language
means
the secret god hid from herself when
no one created the world
back before even this argument our
life began.
118.
The hear of the message is
proportionate to the anatomy of the angel
or are there no numbers up there
or nothing but numbers in heaven
pause for breath even those who are
not breathing
she walks down the street and
everybody understands
that’s what a sky is for to trap the
light and spread it
so we can breathe, the wolf can prowl
the square perfect pixels make
everything unreal
unreal as it really is dream about me
in the long Pacific nights and I will
change
I will be whatever you intend I will
dig
gold plates out of your hill and give
them to you.
Dec 26, 2014 | Uncategorized
113.
I’ll know the question when the
answer speaks
if you say so darling I only hear the
organ
green and white the monks’ church at
St. Gall
remarkable country for being left
alone
whoever told you there are
alternatives
remember pennies not made of copper
remember the wolf in the driveway
mockingbird on the drainpipe
I have tried to deal with everything
give every weather its place in
history
for I was Waterloo and Austerlitz
Prince Andrei dreaming by his horse’s
hoof.
114.
Your money or your life enough of
meaning
I crossed the polished lobby to the
elevators
no one I knew could live in such a place
and so I rose through bronze doors to
family problems
my own estate the sky above Manhattan
and I owned Brooklyn too and east
beyond
but not out west over the river
Jersey and America
the sky belongs to me I say and on it
I take my stand no one else can judge
or smite me
though sometimes someone else will
touch my hand
and then the sky bears witness to my
purity
purity of meaning everything in this
single touch.
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