Saturday, January 31, 2015

HEART THREAD 179 & 180


Penny rolling down an inclined plane
or planet on its roll around a flaming doubt
I knew you when you were my mind before
no one took but everybody takes
cleared a forest to liberate the moon
beautiful astronomy before numbers were invented
one day there was nothing left to count
could you catch it from the bite of an idea
there are no comparisons or only one
paper doesn’t drink up the way it used to
one mind shadows another
wake up some morning and think with me.


Trace the themes that wind the fugue
deep undergrowth this year in aspen grove
all lines lead back onto your hand
line of fate line of wheat
how many kids all the disasters of love
scribbled on the palm grey clouds coming
woodland cabin of the arbiter of dreams
where the bishop of permissions was conceived
it’s all a merry-go-round some horses go up and down their poles
some horses just as beautiful understand to stand
harnessed in pretty glass rubies of samsara
all the love you give comes back to you.

Friday, January 30, 2015

HEART THREAD 177 & 178


Tongue the flute lower there is a deeper music
indefatigably mental a fiddle golf cart in Judæa
all I have are Promised Lands
spent this life writing down the  wind
spread on the lawn to welcome godly showers
hear the copter see only cloud how white clouds roar
indecisive moment the taste of glass
the great gate of Kiyiv never opens never closes
a gate is a man standing in the desert
Stonehenge is a ring of girls around a message
they said a storm is coming love gets lost in theory
revolutions are ninety-nine percent revenge.


Swimming in rain the lightning swims with you
we still don’t know what it is this electric thing
hydrangeas struck by lightning reading Montaigne in the park
one fugue for a thousand voices
ghosts at midday the darkest time of soul
wait for the re-entrance of the theme the bay of Naples
dark as I am don’t confuse me with the dark
look at the sea through a man with an old straw hat
the sea you say is not the same sea
or we were tortured by our differences
I’ve been seeing ghosts all day
a ghost is a man without a man.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

HEART THREAD 175 & 176


Everything over the sheen belongs to me
schön shiny things are fair to be
privilege of silver your own moon in the sky
a body lingers telling time away from me
the belt of storms marks out the parallax of lust
is it you  or is it me stand witness for the light
hydrogen and helium burn to make us see
or is there a light that comes before the sun
come and come again disorder ferries me to you
through the window a warrior dying on the beach
once we were Vikings now we are stones
the oldest dream you ever had becomes your life.


Some texts only dare to read by day
David’s harp strings cut for the sake of the song
how should an old man dance before the Ark
to what old music Biber Schubert Karamanov
body’s an embarrassment in church
folly to the Greeks dance with your tongue
till the song goes to sleep along the spine
why does sun on the sea smell like toast
the word remember is like roasted meat
when there is nothing left but to recall
call again and hope they hear you but who
when you meant me what name did you actually say?

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

HEART THREAD 173 & 174


The rule is so simple make people happy
the method is harder live for the other
the gods come only when they’re needed
as that girl he thought he knew once
came along and guided Dante to the rose
but was she the same as the one who knew
or never knew, you can’t tell by looking
but the telling does no good till you tell it
the breath you breathe out different from what you breathe in
measure the difference in a world full of commas
listen long enough and learn to tell lies
don’t stand by your words walk behind them all the way home. 


He’s getting smart it must be near the end
he has no clue to what the house is called
why does a castle need a name it has a moat
all we need is difference did he say
all belief is make-believe
deus adest alteri drink from the well
the healing breath of other people no help in same
stay far enough away so that they still are other
the mess of mingling knows no edge
boundary is all, we’re bound to mark
mark we honor by transgressing
travel far by staying home.  

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

HEART THREAD 171 & 172


Rescuing forever from never I put the writing in your hand
come back from the place that never was
when the city deserts its gods flee to the fields
in the woods gods won’t leave you alone, you pray by breathing
and even so you have to write it down
this is your sole commandment listen and repeat
because the word you hear changes in you to the word you say
and only you can say it world without end amen
but the Mass your body is is always beginning
your body is praying all the time
knows more about the gods than Socrates
if you don’t know the answer no one does.


Be careful of numbers that come into your head
light-filled windows of an empty house
listening is filling a terra cotta jug with water from a slow fountain
listening is walking down a street you never saw
walk the grass between the sidewalk and the curb
to be in the between is to be born again
any tween space is the primal cave
the folk you see around you are bisons on the wall
every salesman a highpriest grammar a wizard’s spell
the witches love you and the birds are all machines
you wind up the engine with your first breath
keep breathing or all the lights go out. 

Monday, January 26, 2015

HEART THREAD 169 & 170


I think I counted wrong I’m not the only one
there is a wolf beside me and a kingbird in the tree
beast and bird and me together can’t know as much as one woman can
call us all to bed and see what happens then
the Irish poets worked for pay the pay was praise
fat salmon in the cooking pot poetry is war without an enemy
when ‘faith’ replaces cult the polis is dead
the Greeks never had to believe anything, they knew, they did
as Jung at the end said “I don’t have to believe, I know”  
faith cuts us apart from one another
believe nothing and do everything, and conversely
both ways make wise, help the wind blow, paideia


I’m never shy of naming elements
the things that were here for us before we knew
so those are the colors of my spectrum
those are the blocks I fiddle with
rousing to you impatient to stroll
road in shadow past a donkey in a field
a hill up ahead but everyone speaks French
and none of this was here before the hill
so I will go to my mothers below the hill
and live among the ferly folk as though I were a man
and listen to their practice of sun and moon
and learn enough to come back in a hundred years and all for you.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

HEART THREAD 167 & 168


Open the door and let your neighbor out
always somewhere waiting to be else
you know your dove by how the tail is shaped
what will heather do when weather changes
or rabbit in high grass or the four rivers of Kailasa
where the wing begins to wonder the chicks fly
thus go I clutching to the shoulders of the world
around me wrack of history walk on clean feet
feeding ourselves on what no man knows and all women do
each polis had its cult and we have none
the Reformation broke all that away
and ‘-ation’ made nonsense of what was left.


Be suspicious of Greek models we are not Greeks
have no polis have no common practice to the gods
education is sick with Hellenic fundamentalism
Greek can be as bad as Bible for the soul
yet the poetry of both perdures illuminates
Dante is close because each walks the woods alone
the matter world of things receding
tailor sitting on his table stitching what we all must wear
the technology of magic haunts us now
to walk invisible in Google goggles isolate
how soon Ariel goes into Caliban
when once before the magus left the island to the sea.  

Friday, January 23, 2015

HEART THREAD 165 & 166


Or morning only comes when something breaks
how to tell your mother you’re gay
the stains your pleasures leave on you
the roof cracks the birds fly out
it was no house after all it was the woods
only halfway through the catalogue of sins
remember never to confess unless confessing is a pleasure too
girl fell off the lighthouse made her lover fall
both drowned our coasts unguarded
deep-rooted on a shelf of rock below the sea
some sins will never wash away
one slight twist it comes off in your hand.


A wave is pure motion in substance with no substance of its own
a brilliant shadow of a man at sea
left in a terra cotta lekythos takes two to hold it up
ten to drink it dry not ten of our kind ten of theirs
let Ovid tell the story his own way forget the Greeks
they are not in your blood your bloody veil
Mavors inside me made me leap three times
over the solstice fire into the sea of Seven Oxen
I swam to Venus though I cannot swim
walked gingerly on my friend’s adventure
at the intersection of now and then a yellow flag

come not aboard this plague ship of love’s sicknesses.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

HEART THREAD 163 & 164


Hard to read the numbers in this light
go by the feel of the machine road through water
voices in the street fear of believing
whatever they say must be wrong way round
nobody out there speaks our language
urgent children touching in the dark
who are those who move around inside me
she walks by with a woodpecker on her back
to prove that language is a function of the skin
because language is all boundary
a walled garden and a maze at the middle
and a mirror globe at the center with roses all round it. 


Collecting stamps and never sending mail
nobody writes letters anymore
people are afraid of words in the hand
let Bach tell me six times what to do next
translate into something we can keep inside
inside us or in our household god domovoi
Lisa’s plump white arms in Ivan’s dying brain
we have to know though where everything belongs
o Egypt I am weak the rolled-up carpet weighs too much
all the streets led up to the castle where no one lives
you have to keep it all inside la musique
and when the morning finally comes the string will break.  

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

HEART THREAD 161 & 162


I had a dream you told me you had a dream about me
part of me on the other hand already is a dream
how many do I have to be to be one
it is a question of what kind of blue a flower
what kind of kind
when there was nothing but sea there still was me
I am plenty of you
an unfamiliar bird just now Berlioz must have been like that
little histories of what never happened
country A beats country B but war beats both of them
who are you crying to on your hilltop
the wind knows how to take your breath away.


Far pillboxes over the heel of her island
sideways to wind sucks my breath away
all the familiars sieve through the mind
into the dark of other people’s memories
what I lose you find a carousel of naughty children
seacoast is never far from mind it is made of it
ocean our first brain
resemblance is a wilted flower
no one told me anything but you
the stone that sealed him in he carries in his hand
every funeral seems to be my own
all religions are none I thought he said.

Monday, January 19, 2015

HEART THREAD 159 & 160


Binary as if a double star you are
two houses and two voices to proclaim
absolute and relative are the same
two doors to every thought like Boston homes
the law makes difference the will makes same
watch the sun rise little by little the light says yes
the wind is always coming from the night
the dark breathes for us
lost in childhood with a single book
greatness means to have no private life
sun up now and here the great one comes
all work is play at best.


Ate roses from the rocks along the shore
one day she’ll come walking over the sea
to restore us to our original forms
we mild impersonators of another story
cantilena of the obvious desperate for theophany
pick the ocean up and do what with it
one crow before anybody
I don’t send news to the tailor how I wear my clothes
but I tell every sailor where to steer his craft
helmsman of absence monsignor of milk
scared except to be at home and there too
we have come to the midpoint of time.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

HEART THREAD 157 & 158


Asprawl on lawn in the pose of Titian’s Danaë in exiguous bikini
she welcomed the island weather the sun knew her deep
and I looked away at all the other pictures on the air
every mistake needs its own footnote
everything means he said again
if Offenbach can be a Jew then I can too
the gondola took all my doubts away
I too heard the dead contralto singing from the wall
and all my tragic love affairs are comedies
the Muse told me stick to the skin you know
the giddy surfaces of human life, skip the abyss
forget silly Scamander where silly heroes fight and die.


Only in the heart does the blue flower grow and tells the one who finds it
climb into your body and drive to the other side of truth
someone is waiting there and always for you
the sentimental abstract blood trickles sweet bite
grasses on the high moors unanimous in wind
nothing can live at this altitude a steeple
I want to be at home as things are
but that’s a kind of cardboard Africa
live where no one ever imagined
is that the famous blue flower
or the White Rose of national decency
for which the young students suffered and died?

Saturday, January 17, 2015

HEART THREAD 155 & 156


This still is Eden but who’d believe me
I meant only to complain the lawnmower erased the cello suite
but then the sun suffused the fog and no one listened
to anything but the noise that silenced me
this still is Eden some of us never left
a flaming sword that keeps you out lights us to our beds
because we sleep in matter
mind has burned away all its guesses
too much weight groan of a physical world
the wind in Eden my mother crying
or a story she could understand when I had come
beyond all stories to the untellable itself. 


One of those days when all music sounds like church
the wind is up to something
breath tries to remind us to let go
it has no natural end no golden fleece
only the dragon car on the merry-go-round
I rode it pompous to ride with Medea
the invisible beings who guide and protect
y ddraig goch for instance small monster in my blood
enough of Being it’s time for the Is
the self-existent the shadow of a woman the mother’s dream
Amphitrite comes before all and Ovid names her first
goddess of the ocean from whom we come and we are hers.  

Thursday, January 15, 2015

HEART THREAD 153 & 154


A man’s voice and a woman’s voice at once
I have to check these clues with my therapist
my vow stands beside me and saves me from myself
leave your letter in plain sight to baffle the police
bird further away the hill to hear us
one day I swear it they’ll come out from the hills again
cleanse us of this debt-crazed world
whip the money-makers out of this temple world
how dare you listen to music doesn’t it tell you something
fragments of silence all we need at a window
to believe we are the only ones is blasphemy
listen to those who walk invisible and talk to them too.


Quiet describing landscape never seen
by names alone a wind comes through the fog
the way a wave moves through the sea displacing nothing
matter is not the same as what it does
there is a mindful moving in all things
but talk about love instead the cellist’s bare knees
press the earphone closer to the silence
wanted to sit all day and think but not think thoughts
just the ordinary mistral just the light passing by
impossible angles the edges of lost things
they scare me more than a half-eaten apple
Eve’s disobedience still not quite complete.  

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

HEART THREAD 151 & 152


Anchor lights the masts are gone now
blue collisions in this fog
a master of humility aquifer unsalt me
cleanse me of all matters till I am matter alone
much so much to ask an alchemist
chewing roses the taste is late to flower
then from every taste you’re in the sudden garden
Gan Eden where the atmosphere stands guard
our other planet we are programmed to forget
each one of these must be at least a stone
how they look beneath an inch of clear water
how they look when you see me in her dream. 


Time a shadow cast by heavenly event
name me in your sleep
for when I sleep it is a fierce and silent place
I don’t know how to touch you there
and then the birds are slow to sing at dawn
birth cry of a lone old man hoarse mourning dove
I move my head the face in the mirror doesn’t move
at night she can’t escape the color of her dress
it makes the sun keep rising everywhere she goes
I dare you not to look at me I am a mirror
I wear glass wherever I go no wonder you’re silent
not even the morning has so much to say.

Monday, January 12, 2015

HEART THREAD 149 & 150


So some words banish us from us
and some are singing as they leave the park
maybe a story is a wicked thing
tell what happened but not the happening?
better the man alone in a room
music comes somehow in
and nothing said or said not much
just let us look at a man all by himself
a woman sitting in her house alone
what kind of story could be better than silence
as if in Ovid a girl is changed into a girl
and there is no self to distract us with green leaves.


No special moment for the clock to stop
o I’ll get a headline out of that
you hear me better when you aren’t listening
government a fancy word for the police
anybody knows what you mean but not what you say
saying is dark dark a tree lost in a forest
pluck this fruit and name yourself again
a nobody slipping under the giant’s reach
Polyphemus is radar crouch to be unknown
miracle of neglect the oil of absence sweet
and so Blake seldom saw the sea and if he did
its size itself dissuaded him from the transports of love.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

HEART THREAD 147 & 148


Ariel pretends Prospero’s his master
but no one rules that bright air eye
God’s Lion strange name for a little bird
master of the island, human books flutter useless
no magic and no science stilts his liberty
to go and come and speak and ply his appetite
humans rough or gentle are his toys
he teases them by seeming to comply
catch wind in a handkerchief palace in your pocket
o I tried to rule those wizard wings one time
all I got was flutter and flap all my words dispersed
yet he brought me back my drownèd book again.


Eden syndrome the better the place the more fear you’ll be cast out
fundamental neurosis of the ecological moment
paranoid planet ruled by demons still
still we have to do something else about it
something abstract something works
footsteps down some distant wooden stairs
who comes to thrust us out we’re not yet in
selves run out of self a damp fog rolls in
bird feathers and no rain a song instead
meteoric solitude hurrying through emptiness
to be with you before you get to be
inconceivable meaningless such energies so-called stars.

Saturday, January 10, 2015

HEART THREAD 145 & 146


One cloud in no sky
dying later sooner never
constant supervision of the real
humid means the air was breathed before
mean room in empty touristy hotel
only believe what wind tells in that other language
in brightest sunshine heard the child forgets
Ghost Trio playing to the sunset phrase
cart full of dead trees Atu XV everything changes
oxygen found on Mars iron on earth Blake in heaven
slowly adding and adding up to zero
the old couple next door suddenly look like kids.


And ate this flower Old Man Is Young Again
I found it where the new snake left it
on cool cement by the house door agathodaimon
all the ceaseless gifts of living things
to those of us who soil the air with speaking
all our religions and dollar signs and sighs
and these sweet people gave us bass and fluke
to wind again the clock stopped when the old man died
the song they sadded me with when I was young
overwhelm me and be better each of us one step
use me all the way up
the strangest things can break the heart an empty room.

Friday, January 9, 2015

HEART THREAD 143 & 144


Every work must be cosmology before biography
but the dinky little bits of life come in too
I tell you you are you and what can you contest
the lawn needs a shave it’s Sunday and no bells
the mathematics of the wind mathom is treasure
rises when the sea heats up long after dawn
everything tends backwards witchcraft was no religion
we knew the things before we knew the knowers
now float rudderless paradise a lake not a garden
a well ensouled by circumstance
the ash we find after a stranger’s bonfire on the beach
the old lost word that once meant god.


Of course still worry about these things
the wind wants in
wind carries in its lap the seeds of sleep
mind in sleep renews its contract with the earth
the dance we call dream, that forgetting thing
there is no natural end to nature
hence all the busy carry up the hill
higher as if wiser so the sea forgets us
brass doorknob warm from the sun going in
how many times does a house get born
the sea’s ceaseless baptism of the shore
and still we live in sin elves without a hill.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

HEART THREAD 141 & 142


Mix the grains again for Psyche’s pleasure
mess is comfort and the law-book torn
restore all the seeds to our original chaos
don’t wander trying to set things straight
things are right to begin with, confusion is organic
this mess reminds me Psyche yields to pleasure
always here and always now and always elegant
maiden gypsies tend their stallions’ fetlocks
heel white runs right heel dark can’t walk
o fall over lightly Kentucky dreamer round heels
drink to soothe the seething a lie to cure the truth
so much sun today I can almost see.


A word is as wide as the will and it’s all for you
the hedger at his trim the blackbird mum
no sound but peopleness menskr all we bring
to the world is religion it does fine without
trying to find the way there he found a white lode
soft as clamshells of no use but to  witches
his satin armband her linen garter bind
the meaty parts of going or of handling things
throb of artery renews appetite aloft
everything was right there the chemistry the harpsichord
some Chinese whispers from Ernst Toch she played me
the virgin queen with all my Tarot cards.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015



Open door frog croak man lifting lumber
longer than I am this matter I uplift
subtended by substance the soul unveils
the Middle Ages never ended the pilgrims saunter
all the kings of earth still fail their pentecosts
only the beauty is missing the flowing spontaneity of stone
Autun, we have our weathers too our smooth
flaming sunsets in suburban  prose
will the sun on the sea be enough for me
sit on the ground and let the world tell
all your talk is reference book and parliament
what your body knows only body can pronounce.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

HEART THREAD 135 & 136


No waiting it went and was now
 all those old words that meant me stopped
as if the chalice never touched my lips or never left them
the weather is inside us too
knowing litters small birds along the sky
you are the architect of the obvious
things bow down at your feet you know me cold
morning was never meant for this to be obedient at last
hide your confession deep in your tract on ethics
explore the dream life of Immanuel Kant
exalt the triviality of poetry
where three roads meet the god is always present.


Slow down a stoker in a locomotive old
Zola by Renoir Kafka’s steamship balancing nowheres
can’t help but make luminous mistakes
bathroom down the hall barefoot dawn
a room is just a footnote to its window
sun gleams on steel a pen seems muse enough
over the harbor slipping her sail so quiet beauty come
Azure as ever he teased the war over at last                L.Z.
now we can go home home is always somewhere  else
I watched my father shovel coal into the furnace
hand on the throttle of the door I made the house go
talked about coke but it was anthracite and Ellington.

Monday, January 5, 2015

HEART THREAD 133 & 134


Heal like an open window an opus number a lost quartet
the sheen of shadow as if a word once spoken
the leaf speaks louder than the tree
the thing you need to know you never trust
Nietzsche in the rose garden Bolzano smell of asphalt
suicide because birds can walk but men can’t fly
beautiful vow I vaunt that vaults to heaven
shield me from the hailstorm broken scraps of human will
because the will can live without its man
bring me unconsenting to my deed
a vow is medicine finally a use for pain
hawthorn berries to help my love’s heart. 


We’re still in opera that city where the music counts
intervals between the notes men do things to each other
a ring of rising thirds a single leap a ninth
girls turn into goddesses gods sweat to keep up with them
a handful of sunlight a head full of wheat
sleepy grain sleepy sunshine morning comes in vain
in sleep the words are hard to read
even a woman on the sofa what does she mean by sitting there
or the one on the floor reading the paper she is the news
touch the over-energy, energumen each one has
flows into other making both strong
it is the breath of the daemon who lives in our lives.