Feelings are not to be reported feelings are to be felt
so it’s always winter again the mosaic of discourse starts up
where all the pieces fall asunder there is no answer
water table what the land will hold
turned away from the messaging sun the drenched moon
la Dranse flows north from glaciers fed
rain ratcheted can’t tell who really means
all poems say the same thing don’t you know that yet?
no time to mention a melon split open in the sun
what goes on in that dim town across the dream
roses on her thighs are blessed with thorns
I want to know who rings that bell and why.
When is a wound like a wonder
miracle macula the kindly leper healed
by light alone inserted in the vascular
fleshlight cures all so little left
fish swimming at the arteries salmon men by contradiction
reverse time’s mindless flow
the opera is always just beginning
apotheosis of Ariadne creates heaven to be in
a place peopled only by who had been humans
now lift their syntax through the stars
radio blaring on the empty fishing boat
what music do they hear who empty out the sea?