Charges
Total. In that life, which is total
is there a redrafting
of the wind's voice. Stolen
and turned out
on the drying ropes
that coo their corks
hypostasize threads of thought
Too much to tally
I woke
to find you trampled
by drifting garbage the threaten-
ing favor of failure
coughing willingly, tarried,
wicked, given to seizure
and other drafts
from the slighted, open window
*
It bleeds from your palm:
the pleasure, the synthesis.
The hazard is the blood
whose meaning is open.
Mixing the cool day
and the moon's frigid pull,
we see the cattail marching
proud and unsought. Dimpled,
even. The cur lags behind,
carries its towel in its mouth.
The caterwaul preceded this,
gave way to the bell's quiet.
Have I prompted the present,
or given credence to the image?
Or you, where are you? What
strings are yours to pull?
Lizard Squall
Kicking off the wigs
in the kennels
what animals arise
were staying true
& now
this rejected sphere in the door
is the dejection of the vertical
& points to the equator
I have candled and mothed
the scene
bathed with the riddles
of lice
the aura can
be shade
be luminous
or gramofy
intrasensually
as cattle before
a solar flare
Ancient
and the new eyelid
all-but-over and
stooped
In contrast the crusade
is a rush into the cavern
tolerable and mossed
in no-no's
My Shining Hour
as a dead comedian a
scratched building/New big
sky that names you
emergency alarm of
wakefulness impinged
and needs/A new eyelid
Some Of
In the
woods he
saw an open-
ing in
the tree
to bury his
brown head
in the noise
was the
threat
that the lake
had no-
thing to offer
but its own
wet sur-
prise
*
What I concealed
from him—
the pistol, the act—
he cursed
and left me
bruising heads
in the moon
light
*
The body can
only plead
but never
really take