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that abrupt here
that abrupt here of all empty in never enough unravished us we revise each other’s skin this hour this minute this suspiration spends us absently we in what’s already done
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in foothills
the forgiveness in foothills cannot in November sunk in winter weather
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Manifest Destiny
enough somehow what could get us all out to Ohio with any luck or Los Angeles God grant us a big balloon and some sandwiches for the trip uncontested these times appear an empty thing like as not to knock the bottom out of all my Sunday School teachings but I do not want to be like […]
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An Interpellation
We clamor for masterpieces to burn, desperate to send up into air the ash of Racine or the Bard to rain down as prose on those still listening. But I needed to talk concerning those works one reads endlessly over the dead, those slowly turned pages, half hope, half hubris, to speak in favor of […]
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Now, Manhattan
1. Each breath at least a half-life, a pause between anthrax scare and modern memory. And each gaze lifted from the sidewalk half-filled with a rising moon sliced and weighted over the city. Uranus in Capricorn, not far from Heaven’s triangle, night’s space respiring indifference and geometry. 2. The day through which all meander is […]
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Chicago
for P.O’L. and E.M.S.1 a poem is crawling across the foot of the screen, and a cursor is erasing the words as soon as they appear 2 crawling stock-tokens, and a man furrows his brow to deform a cliché, twist a platitude into something approaching rectitude, standing by one’s word 3 four hundred channels buzz revelation and midrash, […]
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The Rain Equation
is never simple And yet, every raindrop’s the goddamn same. Each demolished inch of winter starves alike collapses closer — wound-toned, a skin of grass, the look of shit in water.
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Cambodia
I can’t say why we went to the moon, Thicket and hatchet, Transient and hash marks of data — First there was no water. This explains this or that migration and the general idea of it. Desert, thicket, branches, oceanic. Or the whole fire bruising Icy earth and one hundred, More many more bodies gathered. […]
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“ligature and commence…”
ligature and commence ballast or last dance my own, my little, hand corrupts the air I walk in again. even the head is imperfect keeps “no time.” not the way ice melts or jutting outward the dim profile of you are my horizon.