Monday, December 29, 2014

BY THE LITTLE STREAM WE CALL THE KEEKENHANNA




1.
Measurable the music
forensic afternoon manuscript
who murdered the morning


alter your A’, scriptor,
get ready to wedge them down
into the welcoming silent matter


that brain below the brain
sympathy is union with the dead
peachpits germinate next spring


in a tune like this
nothing gets lost neither
sorcerer nor saltimbanque


a child chided before supper
wants to go home but is home
woe woe a foundling feeling



can you get over it?
personality defects hypnosis heals
to be in your hands though


drink from earth’s hollows
you replicate by anatomy
a child and an encyclopedia


2.
incurious pharmacy of oil
sandalwood I learned to sew
lions roamed that city when


medical issues glamorous therapist
cool fingers on the swamp of my brow
healing is happenstance alone


crystals by the Keekenhanna
cure the wound by waterfall
into the stone the illness falls


water tells more than the land knows how
exercise the spirit that glossy colt
be quicker in it,  be mercury


no one will be there when I look
opened this door a thousand times
fumble the light switch temple maiden


you need a shave she plainchanted
olives red crush beneath our feet
the inward moment springs on us


one more lion to ride home
you speak their language with your knees
that was the hegemonic greeting


kissed her shadow so she spoke
the words for once don’t count
but I will tell thee them


what counted was her breath
upon my temporal-parietals
what she said was Mind this matter


3.
imagine we had done this long ago
gotten to the quick of questions
and touched the silent matter then


not waited all those years of who are you
but plunged all wet through the crazy gate
wise houses waiting to teach us a story


far away to our very selves
think of the children in the quince trees
all chattering in Welsh we’d be


and no one to gainsay our games
Principessa Salome you slew
my image quenched it in your own


kissed my dead lips till they spoke
and everything was language once again
no more damned music


I am afraid of being about things
want only always to be from them
from them all the way to thee


your ear your easy rapture
and all the children waiting to be fed
hasn’t the sunshine said enough?

4.
the fewer words that answer far
legible at close quarters chapped skin
imponderable yesses and no wonder


questions seem to be part of the sky
his business with Gaea and all the green
and scarlet things are answers to


whom was happy as a drug can make
a friend a beach  a nightingale
uncaged in Switzerland, yes you


ride my pony far as please
different faiths for different miracles
blue light deep in my mother’s diamond


first time I saw it, look for it always
sick eyes among the lilies from Peru
stanchions hold foot traffic back


one league southeast the raven croaked
a town grows from a raven’s wing
a town is a bird’s shadow solid grown


I walked until I found a field
and there you were guised as shadow
guised as ten thousand stalks of corn.