|
To Be Blind
Being what it wanted
the sun is trying, I am also
having worn down the fear
with insistence
however ardent is powerless
as though it were a habit
to be blind
the unravelling of gentleness
to its middle
The Hope Letter
A narrow room, a view cracked and flattened
the last illegible marking of whatever coil of light
has passed beneath surf and found on one’s own
an unexpected hurler of suns, words, the portal in trees
shaping together with such freedom and force
a giant between worlds
this wary refusal for their order of things
Unaccustomed to miracles, will surrender
her back, setting for shipwreck
Flame
It begins with an eye
calling curiosity
for the blue in it – a flame
or sign
the lack of knowing
suggests a name
- a flower
with a flower
Provocation
Throw the intense thing
hard it will break
or not
here are my hands
without keeping
Your sex
in my hand, a hand old as
I am. Almost cry
|
