The poetic possible sits alongside with say the etymological But can it run ahead? Without a hint of disdain can the fire Hurry up any more than it can burn? The remote is now nuanced Into a silent belief in tinynesses that beget, belie, behold-
—
here is a graver explanation; this much
we are in agreement
the rope of the grave lies in steep
question; this much
we can say is true; whether the will
is coalesced or roped
into a managed soliloquy, I cannot say,
but this much is allowed
“This first bright day has broken
the back of winter” (1)
As you will it, as you make day beckon its
wince, its sense of pay
“it does not pay to cherish symbols
when the substance
lies so close at hand” (2)
at hand is metal
it is shunned by pieces of,
remnants of burnt life
“my shoulders are dead leaves
waiting to be burned
to life” (3)
leaves welled up as tears are
torn again with the grind of
spade another morning, an
other funnel of seedless faith
“I do not know when
we shall laugh again
but next week
we will spade up another plot
for this spring’s seeding.” (4)
And I know not when your
sun will drown this
piece of land, this need &
dare yours, mine.
1-4: from Audre Lorde’s poem, “Walking our Boundaries”
how does my fondness for solving
the apparitioned problem
chime with the poem? the mis-
represented danger that
threatens: is it dark because it
is obscure or do you
smell a further abyss? cognition
is sensibility & the
problem will be solved as love
equates with the poem
& the burden of tangled knots
dissolves, overflows
—
the zone of the torrid
joy places
my X upon theta of whirl
lone gobs
are stunned into bellow
and I bind
—
A closeted riverbed
Speaks
Come cut
The lower half and expand
Come dress up this mar
With the green spiff cult
A closeted riverbed
Shows
Come wit
I get the whiff -
Am I not known to
this &
Why would wonder
Stalk my I?
The flaw of the fundamental poet is
not something he shares
with the fundamental painter-mathematician
-spiller-of-unknowns-
behoover-of-largesse and fickle sound-
maker; the flaw is
fundamentally sound and it rhymes
internal, exhaled.
undone by my want of shine
the lack
of lustre propels stands as
night we
are not moons pretending to
be stars
we are pendants of fullness
tried tried
/
Wearing the sworn gold
God in
mayhem - conjure me up
a stone, round, sloppy
Within
This dust has become anon it breathes what
whether
wished
ا
Truth in relation, in the fulfilment
of tongues
Waging minimal war – how does relation
stand visavis
Curvature, or the agnostic premonition
that solves?
Truth in negation, in the crucible of
further, more.
ب
Interspersed
These atoms have spoken the truth of blan k stares
this iron smoke away from the cloth of s park
this s poke of tremor
ball o f three falls in each forested rain
These atoms have spoken the th rust as if history
پ
prismed to be unfree of dark/
chasm of my
lit night calls each name –
chime of my
unlit brothers, I solemn,
afraid, fly
ت
divest me of all the filth and what
have you but
a storm of infinitesimal possibilities
natured into
a listless lie, the burnt out red pose,
a stooged 1
binarying as a flipped 0; divest me of
that and there is
none of this.
ٹ
seep now this power stricken
sump of late of
magnanimous urgency to delay
interminably;
seep now to gather what snow
weathered to
vet another rising distance –
ث
In the unhindered ploughing so
desperate to feel noonbreath,
hindsleight and the unplush hum
of haste, there is this mauve &
glue binding each wave of must
to shall we have terror, tenor
