today the sky thinking it's falling

will say to the ground: I want

you to have this, I see so

much of myself in you.

whereupon the ground will reply:

as I do you, thank you.

white on white, drawing a clear

blank--ever grateful.

snow today, so they say...

a purple apple tree abides

on a zephyrous hill.

wearing undone blindfolds

on its branches.

blown naked in the trust of

her figure eights, when they

came of her eyes.

as a pair of hands exchanging

crowns, to marry a Self-contained

undulation.

whose flux will never fade, with

the shock of imagining whose light

has suddenly been thrown on.

one night outside of itself--

it came to me a pitch too black.

open eyes might as well of been

closed, and vice versa.

the first thing that came to our mind

was death, which did not pass.

if it was to be survived, it would come

through the intervention of time...

slowly or speedily creeping out of its

unseen hole.

as with the boundaries of desolation

made out by a will to life, where

aloneness takes on the character of

otherness, absent from that company.

so was it night or death, or other that

filled in the blanks of aloneness as it

withdrew its thrall?

what was left there was a refuge which

had sought a refuge from what sought

it, and what came together knew it would

never be alone again--even though that's

all it was.

an elderly woman on the upper east side

leaves a red ring around a baby carrot

while gnoshing.

imagining Matisse cutting up fauve

confetti in his wheelchair, while he rolls

backward on a promenade.

then she lazily gropes at her neck,

observing a touristy swash--primed for

the annual rigging of Newtonian physics.

when wind pops the ears

of water, a deep listening

breaks open a rain too

steady for mouths.

hail rubbing off on sleet--

then snow flaming upwards

on its escape ropes.

clear to top down respects,

paid to trees moved longhand.

smoky white diamonds

in the canticle-crest of

a wet sun, sudden with

bursts of moon.

enmeshed sound...

slowly rewound

to the oracular mouth

of a ******* moan.

rankly blotted out, by

doornail-stiff hibernations.

fleshed out by a ******

wilderness to lay low in.

again.

Antarktikos...

overlays truing north.

so metaphor can

twice-place.

the embedment of

meaning

before thing~

kernels of corn

detach themselves

from the cob

of some kind of

Sun.

to necklace the

over-shed of

moonshine.

circle-yell,

full.

October is more

than a recurrence.

leaning towards those in your elephantine ears,
fast with reerecting churchy whispers--have
monumental opinions of you.
while you're used at ease, in adjustably particular
ways--nodding with pathetic gratitude.
your sister's ***** slip that night, in regard to a
pinnable justice on your cold ***--goes around in
sisterly unsaid.
what you desecrated with the dead weight of
forward motion, isn't even aware of retrograde as
damnability.
a chartless pole leaves an elderly woman where
she lie, for good--as you sleepwalk away from her.
she's lonely because you probably won't make it there--
despite all the surrounding evidence.

do you have the

chops to be with

The Word as it dies?

poet a race human--

imbedding a chest...

left  to its own devices.

let it alone.

somewhere it was written

across night--which's the very

same night that appears at the

end of day.

which's the very same day that

has always contained night.

whereon day will be driven out,

there will be no portent of this

banishment--just what is written

across night.

day forced to perpetually read

what it can not reveal.

Shofar wedged back into the idle

skull of an antelope.

a red moon crusts on a right

hand--pulled from blankets

that shift into folds.

spread cleaner than the Face

of these.

all the matter kept, a

tutelage of flocking

black birds closing their

schoolbook.

a soundless penmanship

of two withheld bodies.

words are very difficult

when they come alive in

proximity.

serpents trade bedsides

in deep sleep.

their waking eight coincides with

the slowest fathom--dousing the

legend of a heart.

it's so strange when it follows you

around.