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Where are they going? They are moving up through masses, shapes, densities. They are midway between heaven and earth, resting, having finished their studies at the Flying Cloud Academy. The two-step, the waltz. Their posture. But something has gone wrong. Were they meant to be so insubstantial? Call back the teachers, the physicists and choreographers; […]
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Four Poems
No More Songs Sing goodbye to song in songs: protest is dead and song shakes that weight of being for to take the shiny robe of summer breeze and ecstasy, the golden horn of song and imagine full its elixir of abductions and refusals. song now serves the imaginary, the secret catastrophe, undone in its […]
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On Track or Finding It Difficult to Think and Then Move in Late September
Once, even between the spur and buck of dusk and dawn, on the east-end of the Missouri River, the through-truss swing bridge worked to deliberate reflex, barges and train traffic like a compass needle. But the pivot pin of this bridge, that stalk fixed in rivermud, was different than the bascule or draw bridges of […]
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Spicer Interlude
0. “I chicken out at the edges of it,” 8 ½ inches of lit Samsung, my business of screwing business and selling no soul to clamors in suits digging gins at high noon, the trade of books not barter bard or Mauss’ gift — too Lowell, a.k.a Bobby Brahmin with his throat on fire with […]
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Morning (with William Bronk)
The world, what we took for the world, is breaking. Breaking! · Your point: night’s over. And we are equally alive.
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Of Systems Subject, Political, and Private
One is thinking this morning of revolution and despotism, faltering hands at the dashboard of an immensely large, immensely clumsy wheeled machine. Watching the old men cross the parking lot to the supermarket in an ecstatic slow-motion, as if the electric doors will slide open on the riches of Ali Baba’s cave. Winding down towards […]
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No End in Sight Dir. Charles Fetguson (2007)
Improvised explosive devices (IEDs) flout conventional war’s designs if rationale can be deemed a variety of conflict. No matter how I strive to compose images, phrases, the wistful metaphor and rhyme of its experience, the war resents its commission to paper. Which war, I cannot be sure, the one that occurs, bloody prevalent, in lines […]
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Untitled
Eden was invented the moment we left
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Culled
Cloud’s sun sifted rifts litter erupt into margins words in a seizure wound into boundaries I drink to dissolve patterns in the middle of I think through pronouns the concrete rain scent a snail intact flowering morning how the words splinter