a god’s seaming white schizophrenic shores.
Beyond: is the blue of the firmament
and, perhaps, Deitas, the knowledge of—
glanced in a piercing flash, (even though pent
in the dark heavy flesh, under dandruff,
mucus, urine, and blood, the shackled soul
questions if its existence is enough
to win over the maggot in its stool) .
And beyond that blue: it’s blacker than bright:
the stars shine according to their own due.
And there at the edge: it’s brighter than night
for the unworldly few.
You’ve downed your pint of beer, have had your fillof darts and cards, and piss beneath a stemof cherry blossom. Luna’s in your eyesand speaks a language only you can hear,a language of hermetic grunts and sighs.You know a beast is stalking, and a deeris running for its life a breath away.You are a bit…
Bullfinches bathe in dust along the path.Two hedgehogs mate. A crow attempts to sing.The cherries bloom until you see an orchardand in a puddle snowdrops touch the sky.Then, when you least expect, you reach your goal.Your heart stops, and you fall towards your shadow.
She stands, supported by prosthetic knees,the heat of August heavy on her brow.I want to call her in, afraid the sunwill cause a stroke. I think of last year’s fall,how she lost her balance trimming trees.I try to call her in, but by a rowof roses, she cannot quite hear or see.I hurry down the…
—Dante Alighieri, The InfernoWho fashioned him with burning hands of ice?Who chiselled him out of the roofs of hell?And for what purpose and what pricein the blind black eye of what winter gale?Who lodged this parsnip deep into his brain?Who placed this foolish crown upon his head?And to whose profit and whose gainin the wake…
Something nears over valleys in the mattress,and then lands on rim of his warm beer.All night it’s haunted him like lingering fear,like flaming tinsel, or Santa Claus’s sadnesswhen he learns that the blonde and blue-eyed waitresskeeps him like a spare, hung and near.He’s taught her English, given her French love,down on his knees. He’s kept…
red maple leaves so close I’d touchthem in their resurrected flights.I’d lug a hard-on in my pocket,or chunk of looking-glass bright coal,pretend it was a genuine diamondand offer it on a dime-store string.Love had turned me into alchemist.But a woman with ambition,she gave it back to keep me warm,heat from her fingers like a furnacetwenty…
