123.
Wanted to do this hard-edged island
in the city
could be Manhattan could be
Berthillon
makers of fine wax masks to mood your
seeming
this little language lobster in your
trap
broken cage left empty on the sands
void your prisms soon o white man
a voice comes through the stovepipe
listen
charcoal hisses at you beneath the
ribeye listen
the blackbird explains it in the
hedge
your fingernail on the mirror watches
we need more footnotes and fewer
wheels
broken plaster statue still Mother of
God.
124.
O light no different from the night
before
as plain as the beginning of all
things
simple as hydrogen a one-piece light
the longest day on the smallest
island sounds like life
terror in every sense rises from
identity
pulchritudo voluptas fortitude
and give all things to everyone you
meet
discard your enemies like old clothes
etc.
teach a morality machinery aspires
to be one with you without myself
there will always be oligarchs be one
or leave it alone
there is a broken branch a bird can
sing on still.
