Even a line
drawn
in the sand...
is subject to an
inrush of
grains.

Here...take hold my eyes--
wear them.
What do you see...my presence,
or my absence?
There...I'll take hold your eyes--
wear them.
What do I see...your presence,
or your absence?
If we both communicate a
presence and absence...then
where do you leave off, and I
begin?
It may be from this viewpoint
we are not the sole possessors of
our eyes.

Light entered newly, continually...touching light
that imaged--I swore I was there, yet there was
elsewhere.
I could isolate no thing and call it mine.
Bluing takes on blue--bluer elimination rounds
of sloshing sublimity...swelling, welling
and sparkling.
A heart mouthing its breaker...as Hokusai's immortal
upheaval, the shape of cataclysmic implication lent
to shapeless actuation (futurity).
You and I could be counted among those drown by
a nuetrally charged force of nature (Love).
Peace be on the heart that could not help but take
it personal...peace be on it.
Dark entered newly, continually...touching dark
that imaged not--I swore I was there, yet there was
elsewhere...O impossibly personal/impersonal One!
Tears of brine can be tasted...how bitter they are--
the Ocean has shifted the focus of her love.

Formless words...broadcast scribbling space, their diagram
of poetic motion washes over you...formed on impact.
Dark room's glow in broad daylight--your fully developed
picture...deepest blue of two worlds in one, betwixt vibration.
Hue of the canonized, twanging entire a cloudless sky...
enriched tenfold in mimicry of you.
If only stained glass and silk would wed, search light's
spectrum...distill the most affecting gradation of blue--
then would you see a just replica?
Visionary's shield...where earthen wend unveils the abysmal...
that eyes may remain upon you--till one is ferried, and
vision seen through.
Apogee of seventh sea...epicenter of dancing Nine Muses,
whose round keeps the Blue Flower earthbound.
Blue Flower of the poet's pilgrimage, whose synesthesia
electrifies.
Blue Flower...a nebula pinned to earth, the name of spring
born of you.
The golden section of angels fly their flawless form to you...
that High Art may pray to High Art.
...Blue Flower, commended spirit rife with grace...whose
ceaseless hour at hand holds beauty alone.
Mind, quill to tongue riven--if ever...ever is now--Blue Flower...
ever is Now!
The words of this poet have begun fasting...not to eat of what
they cannot sacrifice...their Blue Flower.

Argosy...a bejeweled swan decked in the riches
of the material world.
Body of water unending, tangled in biological
hierarchy--Agamemnon's fateful net.
Sodden to pending depth--forbidding save for
cursory glance.
Blent black, greens, blues covet their color--
invoke static tone.
As it is here and there a secreted navigation
plumbs, facsimile of sky.
Where wave walls glassy calm to ripple, sure
this ****** to near global proportion.
Stoic rhetorical question to land--whose implicit
question mark hooked Atlantis.
This pensive strew, overlay--horizon's sutured
cusp...hazy scare of seagull tossing hale Mary.
Of Ahab and Helen, whereupon to round the
bend of their will cannot be sought here.
Down in niche of sand where starfish spreads
its forehead, beholds enlightenment as sifting
shafts of sunlight...sinking.
Meridian's mime ebbing and flowing as an
everlasting kiss...so tender God's heart swelled
seven seas.