Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Security at Auction



The mirror I left on the floor filled with apricots
was careless. But careless is something I’ve been
recently.  I didn’t want to open the book
the author had signed, crossed out his name
and signed again like a bitten into peach.
Now say something philosophical.
And when we threw him out he clanged
like an old chandelier.  A great smoker
reduced to ashes.  Outside two swans
clear their long throats.  It is remarkably
short and over like the first time making love.
Now I m writing this letter from a field of aster
And the stems are understandably long. 

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Thought on the Stairs



Tomorrow a visage of ourselves embarks
in unreliable paper hats.  But tonight
they hang dampened by a long thought.
Still, their luminance can be seen for hundreds
of miles.  It is so beautiful a ghost puts down
its misty feet and walks. Places water
like a garment to its lips to quench the ash,
 and pauses like a phantom before a corner.
The breeze fills with monsters!
Everything is dangerous in the lion
skinned twilight.  Plums make for smoother
landscapes.  O sifter of words!
Seer of rumored worlds!
I pick up a heron by its neck
and carry it like a pitcher
through the millions of flagella
that feel for me.

All Life is like this Afteroon

All life is like this afternoon on your young sandy face the weight of the stars the body tasting like snow a slipcover of communic...