July 22, 2010

850
That parenthesis the shadows–
The venetian whisper
Congruent to air touching light,
As if a thought in brackets
Tense for motion
Resides in a shimmer
Complicit with calculation’s hidden eye.

July 22, 2010

846
Of circumstance but a part,
Sufficient to a consequential hour’s
Span occult–
One infinite within the next,
As primes countless but subsumed–
As end of means precedent.

June 18, 2010

841
If prose were possibilty
The words might trickle Up
To topple at one thought or two
And fill a smallish cup.
A simple vessel would suffice
To hold a liquor odd–
Of sunlight or eternity,
For toiler and a god.
Intoxication with what is
Unseen by daily eye
Is possible’s distillation–
Sensibility to descry.

June 18, 2010

836
There’s more time than life
In stone or expectation;
See the moon and not its sailing–
The stars will turn without you.

June 9, 2010

835
Metacarpus, epidermis,
Advises all matters five dollars,
And such untrialed whorls–
By practice forepractice told,
By pattern, pattern made–
Let saints and lawyers prate
Upon a parchmented hand;
What’s found is undiscovered.

June 9, 2010

827
Fixed by the sun your eye
‘Gulfed me in your proxy self–
Brow of sky and sea-winged
Limb horizon-met–
Wide this swerve of beachy hip,
Small your citrus-fronded lip.

June 3, 2010

826
Of no more moment
Than a sparrow’s wintry hunger,
Or the cessation of breath:
A walk in season–
To cloak an hour’s circumference
With air,
To careless brush the mote of years
Crystaled, from its waitless cuff.

May 21, 2010

817
The thread gentian pressed
In tissue is a paler blue
Than meadowed partner dressed
In nature’s graceful hue–
Mind that spectrum’s but a mirror,
And all nature’s truth contingent
Tho seeming at the core–
An interpretation’s regnant:
Each under each, perceived,
Perceiving–unasked–receiving.

May 14, 2010

814
Cinquefoil sea
Meadow taking me–
Sun-summoned, moon
Saved,
Five-fingered petal-waved
Conjugate ocean–
In two, one motion.

May 14, 2010

813
The ocean’s sea is an island
Whose unsubstanced consequential edge
Bends with the remover
To remove.
No pebbled shore marks these hours and weeks,
But the self-same brine’s unpurposed scend
Unstills the still beholder’s eye.


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