Aught, no. 15 (2006)
symbolic landscape
bloody knife, [he is] laughing, I am alone
rocks that look like women
drowning
pick-up truck crossroads
dust in the air
knives
surrendered
placed
gently
on
the ground
wrapped up in ribbons, rings soiled around
the pink the dirt
everything
is absorbed
we don’t miss anything now
I’ve been having nightmares, alone
with the knife wielder
this dream where
the
one murdered
is the murderer
himself
seeing what realism misses
every view a box,
a portion
I have on gloves, I have the knife, a ring in my hand
What is Diego painting now?
I slide the ring onto the knife
take off one glove
evaporate,
take the form of rock
goodbye
concatenatious dream song
A girl on a horse.
Burnt
umber.
Short hair the color of the horse’s.
Concatenation.
We are linked.
She lives in my
room.
In the railroad-style house
I
used to live in.
We go to visit her.
My
father and I.
everything is open
everything is locked
*
New gates have been put in everywhere,
maze of gates, we open one,
there
is another, we open
that one, there
is another.
They are all locked but the locks do not work.
We finally enter my room, which is her room now.
everything is open
everything is locked
*
I am afraid of pearls
and there are daggers in my pillow.
everything
is open
everything
is locked
*
There is so much order here.
I wondered if she is a me of the past
but why is everything so organized
and empty, uncluttered, such openness.
I wonder if she is my potential.
There is a typewriter in the middle of the room
on its own typewriter-sized table.
Nothing against the wall but necessity.
A bed. Green shutters.
A
bell
hanging from the door
but when she leaves
(everything is open)
she
walks through the window,
so
nothing rings,
no
clatter,
no
clutter.
(and the places
we can visit
the
food we can eat)
Things You Think You Should Know About:
Titan’s notorious haze
and you here
licorice-less
and shining of something
other
something less,
and more real
Why are you standing
there in the shadows
without a spiral or a coil
or something shining
in
your palm?
Such shaded top hats that leave no cover.
Ulcers of finality—
and you here all
alone
and me here all
alone
Titan’s haze is there something I should know about
you that I don’t know that I don’t see by looking
sunscreen, masks
and rosary beads
evaporating, smearing
across the lines
and
there is something else
but…
both of us are here together all alone
except for that
owl
here
in broad daylight
and
both of us are here together
yet
all alone
and always a third thing to remind you
what are you not
looking at
what
do you not see
that the owl sees
turn around turn
around
hoot hoot orange
eyes
a sun inside glowing
outwards
what you can’t see because you match it
wait for night wait for night
Un-finned
blurry concave recipricocity
there is a mountain
around me
what surrounds me is what’s inside me
stubborn southern street scoundrel
pecan capital of the world
and inside me so warm so hum
well then there needs to be an elephant
crazy indigenous me coming out
of
me
pecans echo secrets to each other
"I do not think that they will sing to me"
Rapallo inside. Rapallo
seeping singing sleeping seething
and something shiny
and black
piano keys suggesting
and
singing
and breathing so
hum
***
so full of birds and
thousands of birds
“bring the
green boy white ways” and thousands
“white lake trembles down to green goings on” do
you hear it?
so full of birds, so full of birds
this
mountain
what’s
inside me what surrounds me
do
you hear it?
a shining you cannot see