(Truly Jehovah’s bow suspendsNo pots of gold to weight its ends);Only the blood-mouthed rainbow troutRose to my bait. They flopped aboutMy canvas creel until the mothCorrupted its unstable cloth.A calendar to tell the day;A handkerchief to wave awayThe gnats; a couch unstuffed with stormPouching a bottle in one arm;A whiskey bottle full of worms;And bedroom…
propped on The Meaning of Meaning.He catwalks down our corridor.Azure daymakes my agonized blue window bleaker.Crows maunder on the petrified fairway.Absence! My hearts grows tenseas though a harpoon were sparring for the kill.(This is the house for the ‘mentally ill.’)What use is my sense of humour?I grin at Stanley, now sunk in his sixties,once a…
drawn through his maze of iron compositionby the incomparable wandering voice of Phèdre.When I was troubled in mind, you made for my bodycaught in its hangman’s-knot of sinking lines,the glassy bowing and scraping of my will. . . .I have sat and listened to too manywords of the collaborating muse,and plotted perhaps too freely with…
I want to makesomething imagined, not recalled?I hear the noise of my own voice:The painter’s vision is not a lens,it trembles to caress the light.But sometimes everything I writewith the threadbare art of my eyeseems a snapshot,lurid, rapid, garish, grouped,heightened from life,yet paralyzed by fact.All’s misalliance.Yet why not say what happened?Pray for the grace of…
