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I watch them
and write, my paper placed
on the AA book
as I wait for my meeting –
will my separation crack
with the ice of the lakes
and will I too feel
I am about to begin
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but still I yearn to see
some providence for the sick, some thing
that shines inside more brightly than the light,
negating the heavily breathing I –
are you ready for eternity?
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the body remembers it all the books that ruin your life
when they are beset by agents of darkness bed bugs
what kind of an idiot watches a portal open up in his eyes
cold matter breathing darkness the landlady becoming
military police i rip all of my books into shreds
and i glue my own book from these
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If you have dirty fingers
and run them a couple of times
over the keyboard
with all your heart
how will you tell
the third time
which ones are black
and which ones are white
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...oh that saving intoxication i take a running start and jump off a mound and fly into the hedge of herons and they meet me with tender nips...
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Homes fill with vases sputtering marigold orange
As days grow shorter, there is nothing to be done –
The young men sing, titmice twitter over graves
And the shells of urns fill up with your friends
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I’ve been learning how to be human from the rain
from the southern wind
and from the fog
that beautiful fog
in the grasses along the shore
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so what’s the worry? impossible, i say
time does not think about that.
the river flows under your bridge,
the police are almost on vacation,
god rides a spaceship from mars.
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Descartes and I did not exactly chime,
but loved ones denied me many times
like some proof insufficient for belief.
