November 10, 2012 § 2 Comments
music has moved my soul from whence it came; room without room for me
music has sold my soul for its sovereignty; ability to move my love-
to make me move.
if I could sing anything now, it would move the mountain under me
if I could touch anyone now, I would leave impressions ‘of me’
a screen we need to write about last night, the sweep
took away the tear you languished over. white nonsense.
that’s all it is.
November 7, 2012 § Leave a comment
I’m all struck out of things to say
winter has carried my tongue away
melt the ice and see me
I’m all out of poetry
winter has frozen my ability
but like a boomerang:
wait a season. see me
November 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
if there were, here, three worlds
on one globe
I’d know about it. the poem you hold
with your eyes, you would hold
with hands arms legs, splinters of one
in the conditional, there are no rapids frothing with certainty.
only the family of the first world feel that finality
of coming first.
we must shelter under them when the storms come.
after the storm, the sun
blazing on a white bicycle through the tropics
and onto the ice;
when it comes we will see everything
three worlds can have no colour
in the great, hot dawn