Jan 7, 2015 | Uncategorized
135.
No waiting it went and was now
all those old words that meant me stopped
as if the chalice never touched my
lips or never left them
the weather is inside us too
knowing litters small birds along the
sky
you are the architect of the obvious
things bow down at your feet you know
me cold
morning was never meant for this to
be obedient at last
hide your confession deep in your tract
on ethics
explore the dream life of Immanuel
Kant
exalt the triviality of poetry
where three roads meet the god is
always present.
136.
Slow down a stoker in a locomotive
old
Zola by Renoir Kafka’s steamship balancing
nowheres
can’t help but make luminous mistakes
bathroom down the hall barefoot dawn
a room is just a footnote to its
window
sun gleams on steel a pen seems muse
enough
over the harbor slipping her sail so
quiet beauty come
Azure as ever he teased the war over at last L.Z.
now we can go home home is always
somewhere else
I watched my father shovel coal into
the furnace
hand on the throttle of the door I
made the house go
talked about coke but it was
anthracite and Ellington.
Jan 6, 2015 | Uncategorized
133.
Heal like an open window an opus
number a lost quartet
the sheen of shadow as if a word once
spoken
the leaf speaks louder than the tree
the thing you need to know you never
trust
Nietzsche in the rose garden Bolzano
smell of asphalt
suicide because birds can walk but
men can’t fly
beautiful vow I vaunt that vaults to
heaven
shield me from the hailstorm broken
scraps of human will
because the will can live without its
man
bring me unconsenting to my deed
a vow is medicine finally a use for
pain
hawthorn berries to help my love’s
heart.
134.
We’re still in opera that city where
the music counts
intervals between the notes men do
things to each other
a ring of rising thirds a single leap
a ninth
girls turn into goddesses gods sweat
to keep up with them
a handful of sunlight a head full of
wheat
sleepy grain sleepy sunshine morning
comes in vain
in sleep the words are hard to read
even a woman on the sofa what does
she mean by sitting there
or the one on the floor reading the
paper she is the news
touch the over-energy, energumen
each one has
flows into other making both strong
it is the breath of the daemon who
lives in our lives.
Jan 5, 2015 | Uncategorized
131.
Feelings are not to be reported
feelings are to be felt
so it’s always winter again the
mosaic of discourse starts up
where all the pieces fall asunder
there is no answer
water table what the land will hold
turned away from the messaging sun
the drenched moon
la Dranse flows north from glaciers
fed
rain ratcheted can’t tell who really
means
all poems say the same thing don’t
you know that yet?
no time to mention a melon split open
in the sun
what goes on in that dim town across
the dream
roses on her thighs are blessed with
thorns
I want to know who rings that bell
and why.
132.
When is a wound like a wonder
miracle macula the kindly leper
healed
by light alone inserted in the
vascular
fleshlight cures all so little left
fish swimming at the arteries salmon
men by contradiction
reverse time’s mindless flow
the opera is always just beginning
apotheosis of Ariadne creates heaven
to be in
a place peopled only by who had been
humans
now lift their syntax through the
stars
radio blaring on the empty fishing boat
what music do they hear who empty out
the sea?
Jan 4, 2015 | Uncategorized
129.
To see anything at all is just
remembering it
but the word you hear in silence is
actually now
or five minutes of the future pulling
you forward
a friend tugging you into the park
children sailing boats in the
fountain woman eating corn
myriads mix the chessboard rises to
the sky a rook topples
the tower falls towards you from an
empty sky
it lands slowly and builds up around
you
you have been spoken now
vague animals roam around the base in
the dark
but at the top you still can see the
sun
setting behind mountains that weren’t
there when you first looked.
130.
If the son knew the father as the
mother knows the son
the gate would open and the world
would enter in
Blake didn’t say this but he meant it
children had no place in his world or
mine except for me
eternal selfish child of self all
brooding wanting
a child cancels the father and
abandons the mother
that is how generations erase their
past and are erased in turn
I am not prepared to say more than
the words in your mouth
warm sun on chill morning no further
than that
purple vestments today’s mass
mourning for last night
nothing special about her just that
she was
washed by the wind instructed by her
hair.
Jan 3, 2015 | Uncategorized
127.
Light runs the machine
before sunrise no cloud no wind
and now the sky is full of tossing
no method only mind
consciousness is a habit of matter
it thinks where it can
that’s where we come in
a freight train right through
Callicoon
a little boy anxious about the sky
pine trees taller than anywhere
I came to life where Oedipus left it
every grove is sacred every girl a
god.
128.
Not so limber when the light decides
you know all this is signs
a word on a truck goes by
you know I’m in love with you don’t
you
the hedge said it topiary of words
lost in the maze of a single straight
line
does this street go to heaven
the word has no meaning in a world of
streets
streetcorner the statues of Venus
till the emperor wakes
between bed and bathroom the shadow
of a dream
you don’t know her name but that’s
all you don’t know
old locomotive movie about lovers a
lifeboat.
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