Archive for May, 2017

Room 199

May 14, 2017

Is this then life
(not even geneses were dreamt),
soil underfoot, overhead sun?
What is the grass, might then be ask’d
but I shall not be pastoral
as my grass is just shrubbery:
thick weeds growing along a yard,
clovers in a modest garden


standing there
(Grab the daisy! but I do not move),
I know I’m solid and sound, deathless
– interference in waveform, moiré
on a bubble? Maybe: yet I am time
and matter and my bare feet pillars
& compass;
my spirit needs no vindication
my mother’s shadow’s but a sundial
and grass-spiders crawling all about
the control lights of earth’s intention.

Room 198

May 12, 2017


Room 197

May 12, 2017

then my heart was taken
& thrown in a casserole
Shroud! said one
and starless a night fell,
a walls & roof sort of night
were hoped, & manifold
there in the wooden darkness
(while knocks) while
all knocks stopped

Room 196

May 2, 2017

is that sound time
roaring in my eyes like a river?
In the neutral stanza everything stops –

Now I have a son:
I’ll show him everything

with words lacking syllabes
from the basket the cut head augurs

the man of god has 100 moons & skies,
& suns even]
and no book doctrine;
there shall be no talks of legacy
if all is one:

enter the fire,
become a moth, a moth,
derange yourself, tear down your house –
you’ve got the tomb’s night: acquire
the night of destiny,
become dumb, read from broken bark
in the night of wishes
gyre corona
a Diwali of possibilities


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