June 2010

Words torn, unseen, unseemly, scene
some far suburb’s mall lot
Summer’s theme: this year’s humid
—to sweat is to know—
pen squeezed too tight yields
ink as blood or pus
so the phrase scraped, removed
offending thine eye: “Outsource Bush”
Against which, insource...

The wake     sewing shut those white lips    
and after    when leagues     and all behind to salt
fell     the grateful Spaniards prayed
It became their habit     to turn eyes     sore away
from surfeit     Rashes and abrasions of spring
leaf  stem  vine  blossom  aphid & berry stridulant
intricate and promiscuous     without the rose
or borage or pomegranate embowered
in flaunting...

The first day was a long day
and the first night nearly eternal.
No thing existed, and only One was present
to perceive what wasn’t there.
No meaning as we know it;
difference was bound in the All.
On the first day, water,
on the second...