-Still, if one were to-

in remembrance of text.

when i see you it will be morning

and dew-drooled     and     still scribbled,

still crayola      wax      damp,

the day, and mangroves spill

from each mailbox as tulips

from mean teen-gripped rifle barrels

raspberry their very own  fay,

       unarmed gardeners

the air will be laundered by precious hands,

       the sky yet      unfolded,

in cloud linen ribboned, balloon and dove bejeweled,

when next i see you next we meet,

       sun in amethyst finery,

some gauzy number seasonal though clingy,

dappled with tinctures of tropical orchards unattended,

       and

the concrete below our shoe-freed feet cool perfect,

at which lush moment you may behold,

     painted toes upon a fissure,

as a lone army ant,

mutely relentless and benign, vaguely harried,

gold scroll in hand, shall proclaim,

     i promise,

my arrival imminent,

     that day is come.

in remembrance of text

bad habit,

   verse cripple

limp        along

sad apple

    verse, simple

    limping wrong:

bad example.

in remembrance of text

my,

how in-blind

the love can be,

warm as the zingings

of caramelized Hennessy,

      yes    of     which

rich      vapors  bring 

stung      tears with a whiff      my

how simple apricot    the days,

how lackadaisically  

manhattanites   daub

plump rolls of green scented tender 

at   their wrists  at their  throats     find a pulse    their

very   veins  

          blue-gorged       buried blues      but this

was of the looks    the hooks   of love yes?  i see quite little      quite

bright       white    out     today.

we, as if broken from crags,

even as boys, too sharp

at the edges, although perhaps

sometimes skillfully cut;

we, like pieces of rock 

that have fallen on flowers.

in remembrance of text

On the first page of my dreambook
It’s always evening
In an occupied country.   
Hour before the curfew.   
A small provincial city.   
The houses all dark.
The storefronts gutted.

I am on a street corner   
Where I shouldn’t be.   
Alone and coatless
I have gone out to look
For a black dog who answers to my whistle.   
I have a kind of Halloween mask
Which I am afraid to put on.
 
                                  -empire of dreams,
                                                               charles simic
image

in remembrance of text

all afternoon it rained, then

such power came down from the clouds

on a yellow thread,

as authoritative as god is supposed to be.

when it hit the tree, her body

opened forever.

                                 -rain, mary oliver

“all night your moth breath
flickers among the flat pink roses. i wake to listen:
a far sea moves in my ear.”

                                                                  -from morning song, sylvia plath

“…i watched for love-cars. lights turned down,
they lay together, hull to hull,
where the graveyard shelves on the town…
my mind’s not right.”

                                                                 -from skunk hour, robert lowell

the painting

peter sees

that i

could paint

"but didn’t

you?” says 

mummy.

let be be finale of seem.
the only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.


-the emperor of ice cream,
wallace stevens

occhiolism

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

n. the awareness of the smallness of your perspective, by which you couldn’t possibly draw any meaningful conclusions at all, about the world or the past or the complexities of culture, because although your life is an epic and unrepeatable anecdote, it still only has a sample size of one, and may end up being the control for a much wilder experiment happening in the next room.

never clever enough

the walls

                 the child’s mild suckle

as baffled as the barefoot flight

                  from the stomp and march of murder and her

little brother mayhem.

give the signal

when the coast is clear.

say then.

say when.

less hunger 

         than boredom

         puts           the blade

to the neck.

not sanguinary but

a certain sobriety.

                when the others looked away

                that’s when with

               wings pinned the show

               got on the road

and we nightwished

for blizzards, forgiveness 

a lightsome finality.