
Four Poems
Interiors where no one is, digested by the round eye of
the mirror. That is conceit. Our oneiric blither of carnal
essences, or images that leap from trapezium. Giving
oneself over to traces of dopamine, pleasantly turning
manipulandum in this rigorous test of motor skills. Wet
in another submission about deserts lacking wet. Asquint
through camera obscura inward unveils the prodigal
seeking work. Moving, keep moving, jostled by
abrogation of space and angered by images of violated
auratic, that Ingres of Ossian Songs for example. So
touching you send it directly to yourself, then to every-
one in the free world
[tab10]To dream of lozenges[/tab10]
[tab10]foretells success in small[/tab10]
[tab10]matters. Meanwhile, our[/tab10]
[tab10]embryology is full[/tab10]
[tab10]of gradients. Every afternoon, endure[/tab10]
[tab10]all weathers beside[/tab10]
[tab50]a red mailbox[/tab50]
Every evening heed a recommended dosage of harmonic
shifts and key expansions. Every yesterday, observe the
grail cup full of concave depth just to spite these flat
contrivances. Typical tableaux, in which every line is
suspect, although constant talk about the diptych of
decent size upon the banker's cabinets expresses
promiscuity between seeing and the seen. Aiming to
appear angelic with poorly drawn digits, aching for fake
perspectival from anyone clocking drips and drabs of
moisture over time. Still moment, positively teeming
with nowness
Orphic tweaks and Osiric scraps. A puddle of a muddle
out of which they flourish. Under the weather, haunted
by scans of dehiscence, waiting for that colourful outburst
of sporangium upon white dish rack. So often supine,
dwelling over erotic fragments, curves of body and
corners of flat. But animation of a body is not assemblage
or juxtaposition of its parts, we keep insisting. Reaching
inside for spiritual principle and tenderly lifting out offal
The joke of those beastly guts only catches on when
healing takes effect. Struck by scherzo in abrupt redux of
minuet, still futzing around. Barely time to be stuck on
you, to walk with carnal wobble, utterly befuddled by this
repurpose of life
Languishing in mid-reach for Lydian mode, listening to
hymnal suckered in the gut of chamber depth, transfixed
by random pseudoreality of neck and shoulder in south-
paws of collagist tossing together angular demoiselle in
her salad days. To know, in the mouth of polymath, tied
up with the concept of chewing over, of biting no less,
bringing to mind the rumination of reseda and what it
brashly intimates. Then penultimate part—instrumental
recitative—affectation that springboards into stirring aria
More traces and undeniable evidence of affection, pant
leg yellowed with dandelion and bread greened with
lettuce. To know, glossing everything it could and would
entail,
[tab15]since the ruination of that preternatural place[/tab15]