Wednesday, November 24, 2010

my cup of flowers

my cup of flowers is the full weight of you
wet with your ancient tears
I will eat you when I wake and drink
this tea to return to the floated mind
of your dream
                        without hands or eyes
we will walk together through burnt fields
in the polarized autumn light
memories of love that was almost love and
nascent beauty that became this grace
                                                my cup
of flowers hums with your voice          briefly
you held my face against your throat
                                                another breast
for me to cling to
                        to enter love through
                                    to add my ancient tears

the clock is weightless

the clock is weightless in my attention
I write to you               you seem to care
your clock moves you from one spot
to the next
            it is no longer celestial time
in you it becomes dimensional
                                    fractured time
he once asked you
            -how long did we fuck-
and you knew
            -almost eight minutes-
dressing as you spoke rushing
around the shifted bed

take some time to write me back
                        my letter ended

yesterday        on my phone
your apology
                        in so many words.

being following

being following
cascade of many
years into radiance

how dream settles
into song
how when
the wheel settles
            it throws your
unexpected shadow
on the half-lit world

and now the world
on your wheel

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I agree

I agree
with you Cid
I am old
enough now
to want for-
bidden things

old enough
to take in-
small storage
of years of
wants and needs
like boxes
damp in the

chewed by mice

until you
Cid       opened
the doorway
down    and I
for nothing
but to see
the rotting
I’m built on

to see where
my poet
eats sleeps and
to watch him
drag the hose
between fuel
tanks   from the
rusted out
over to
I never
knew of.

she like the

she like the
hydrangea in
its color speaks
the soil of her
roots to opal-
escent blooms
of her eyes
the       wells
of her resig-

The Ferryman

even now
a ferryman will take you across this
low wide river
for when you choose

but gently
payment should pass gently as alms
to the muddy quartz-fisted anchorite

listen as the throats of            the river ring
his shrouded water-bell

                                                see how
the sun shines through and hides his milky
cataract eye
where the river drains into and out
of him
this flooded pearl of cascading water
erupts in the moonlight like datura
                                                the blooming eye
a bulging spool
that winds and unwinds a silver thread

for what you might hesitate to offer.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

with no loss

with no loss
of words

the cynic’s prayer

the story is simple

to be so concise
            a meteorite

to isolate with words

the cynic prays
to a dissolved self

beyond belief.

Standard Tuning

I have ghosts of myself still in my mouth
their whispers inked on her breasts    and she
dreams of a wedding-funeral
            ceremony for the exchange of selves

of ghost for ghost.

cut the tree

cut the tree     they say
and we cut until
the massive bone shatters
and shouts a river’s thaw

another sixty years uncarved
at our feet       unguarded
by the incredible height
                        now length

our decisions consistently
making these conversions.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

in this house

in this house    sleep
is restless
            another chore
to add to the list
                        we wake
sore on the rocks
of our mountainous
            cramped by
damp weather
and shearing winds
                        we wake
as if dropped
into a thicket of scalding
wild rose

            the uncommon
world in its orange dawn
and open mouth pulls us
to our feet
            back to our bodies
back again to the lists
inscribed in the metal
and brick
of our belongings.

just as red

just as red
tailfeather falls to
the ground

                        from flight
                        or perch
                                    ship / wreck
                                                in air
freelance weight eased through



            to bird