Up in the Rockies snow glows in the
moonlight down here on the plains it’s raining I’m waiting for spring signs of
spring glimmers of spring tremors of spring tinctures of spring translations of
spring I’ve begun collecting old decks of cards and playing poker with ghosts
in a saloon of the mind the joker acts as an ace Spinoza produces a royal flush
downs a shot of whiskey and mutters the entire universe is God it’s still
raining crows shake their bodies I’m convinced of these sensations I see a ponderosa
pine mimic the structure of reality life is largely atmosphere convulsing with
winds we can endure it or howl at it like King Lear sometimes there are choices
in life and sometimes it’s hard to garnish the truth with perfumed stationary
Is that a handstand I think it can
set things straight once the blood rushes to the head snakes usurp the intent
of one’s legs I see my voice rippling in the air like wave clouds
Here’s something an ear of corn on a
stalk of writing that’s what all this is ganglions spitting the textures of
thought reflective equilibrium is a small house in Oslo the beards and bones of
Viking kings a stalk of talk on a stick of glitter the central problem of
cosmogony is to explain how something came from nothing flamingos in flight
over the Andes
Particles and antiparticles bubbling
up out of the vacuum of space is part of it but there’s also interrelation no
word is a word until it extends from the mouth to the chemistry of life and
creates a wider universe like say a drive across Mississippi emissions like
semen cypresses swaying in Louisiana celery is an emblem of grace the tattoo of
a turtle crawling down my arm a length of wood for a door to the fourth
dimension it smells like big long vowels in a house of language can you hear it
jingling in my elbow
Sometimes in a dream you can cast a
mirror in horse dung at first all goes well but then the mold cracks under the
intense heat and molten metal flows out across the floor exploding flagstones
sending them caroming off the ceiling and at the last minute you manage to fly
Those courts in medieval Europe what
were they all up to were they the Davos of the time some days I feel like I’m
in a time warp completely out of step with everything with nowhere to go no one
to talk to all my friends dead and gone loss is a powerful emotion I have days
of inquiry and days of long speculation incessant exhibitions of thought bronze
moth incised with jewels flying from the mouth of a poet in Ethiopia
Once I had a bed outdoors I watched
time attract the timeless stars and felt the air lush as an overture the very
smell of it too big to squeeze into meaning
Thousands of Zoom readings later has
anyone imagined being an anemone in a tidepool I think these words could cause
a milky nebulosity to morph into the lights of Las Vegas as the sky limps
westward using shadows as a crutch and an aging rock musician at Planet
Hollywood struggles to reach a high note because language leaves a residue
Who invented varnish who invented the
windshield wiper who invented syntactic calculus we all did & there it is language
creating an old gas station drama beneath the chassis of a Plymouth adamancy
has been abandoned for adaptation but not here no sir if you know these hills
you’ll know what I’m saying we’re all wandering through an experience and each
ramification needs a spark of truth to light the fire and burn off and reveal
something even deeper let’s call it a dark granting us the privacy to commune
with tigers
No comments:
Post a Comment