December 2011

Peace fell on the dim lands a sort of abstraction
The metronome counted one petal after another
So the petals fell as or in some music
This song needs no breath just an apparition
With a mouth open and eyes and eyes
The wet smear...

Whose hands touched, first, the head
of the penis, the shaft?

And was it soft
                          or shale?  More rock
than clay.

And who pinched first
into their place the small cups
at the base of the ass?

                                        Who was it
got down there, on whose knees,
and blew—
                         and was...

                                           I
From the false summit, coxcomb-cum-arête,
cool thermals underscore our frailties,
past edges where our wingless feet are set
and the long...