yes it is dawn after all
the dark receding
into the trees
weaves me with almost
a world to see,
little world, bushes,
birdbath, fence—
and fence means town
and town means true,
city, all of us and you.
The little song again
seeps from the sky.
20 October 2022
Soak a face cloth
with warm water,
wring it out a little.
Now rub it firmly
slowly on the stone
nearest your door.
Then carefully wring
out the last few drops
into a glass, you’ll want
an ounce or two. Then,
only then, set it out
in the sun, that very
night in moonlight
or darkness if no moon.
Next day take a scant
teaspoon of it. This
will cure you of time.
19 October 2022
Listen to the light
she said
and rode away
miles past the mountains
there is a city
where they chew on air
where they build on water
and walk on sunbeams
even late at night
mostly what they do there
though is waiting,
the teacher comes now and then
smelling of cinnamon
robed in cinnabar
wise, wise, wiser
even than words.
19.X.22
Suppose Eden was a prison
and the apple a key to get out.
How would we think of serpents?
Is there anything in the world
that isn’t really upside down?
We are deep-sea creatures
living at the rich
bottom of the ocean of sky.
18.X.22
the ceiling has much to say.
It has heard and smelled
so many things, witnessed
scenes out of Proust or worse,
kept the wrath of heaven from
falling on the slugabeds below.
Study on and study slow,
lie there and let your research
be excuse enough for lingering
two woolen and one cotton layer
deep beneath fascinating blank.
17 October 2022
It is a great epic for the Do-It-Yourself era, a long poem the subject matter of which is language, its heroes are pronouns and its story is whatever comes to mind as you read or hear it. Yes, you can hear it too! Line by line into the small eternity of your own forgetfulness.
16.X.22
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