we reach in words

we reach in words
   a steel bank
   a rimed percolate we reach
   in words

a bible truce im
   maculate slouch where the
   green greed of
   terror builds

The dream on land last night built this boat of death
but in the suffering of the light
moving across the sea
do we in our moving
move toward life or death

– Muriel Rukeyser

I trundled feather, am done,
Will begin as love’s

Craft sheathing watchful fleece-
Another bearing of

Fear as it says word, bit and the
Dark rum of a doubled

Noon

Little, slight, bolt

ا

Little, slight, bolt: this breath
                          as vial
              tombing towards red
 

                     the strut of
                           dare &
the polite underpinnings of flame 

ب

This deathliness, this straw that gums
your
    mask shame banked horror midstream
    this broad, this upworld and drown

Will wilt? sawed through the myriads a
mild
    clasp of blue suffices and browned
    it marks the shrewd path to denial

پ
I tempered hook, the gait of
sallow noon

I mixed each nut of how and
vetted moon

I crucified the box and hum of
then & soon

I broke chalice, mirror, tune

Poet as hark

– Poet as hark
As thimble, ear, sense of what
As hark – where the sense of what gives ear to

Wednesday – where each noon is assembled, bled a
New

As sense of when; harm is pillow; dire
Banked – where we growl away the sense of where

– How does the poem listen?
How does the poem listen?
With the

Bulb of the pen in still
Ness giving

The moon a month to stare –
How does

The poem listen? as agree
Ment to

Stay on course as the jet
Of ink

Relents; off course the well
Blurts out

There is a source I draw from, a source


         asking
for the leaf to wither now as it is time
asking for the
                       weathered
                       gin of yester
day to cease to 
                       day
this source where dank mixes with sweet mixes with musk