135.
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.
136.
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.
