the more the character begrudgingly
revealed about itself in each nearly
sense-free ramble. Though one could start to make
out an outline in the deposits of
silt perhaps as a kind of lure while it
waits for something better to show
Yes I know that caldera is over
due, but by how much only she
can say, and one day, if you will look this
way, each museum, gold bar, and landlord
will find itself folded scraped and forced to
slough down to the liquid below the thin
surface ornamentation as again
the old ocean leaps to mint new mountains
Tag: mountains
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in an age when close and distant cloud
I make what you won’t want to eat and wait
for the snow scrape and salt that wakes us too
early or too late little mountains pen
in sugared cars I try to lift this snowwith homemade rhythm into clouds
like berries almost black but how
long do I have to long for long-lasting
mud and birds who stay a bit and fly backa breath that leaves green leaves to shake
so let’s finish the crackers and
call them cookies we can watch amovie through the neighbor’s window
just balance on this pile of skulls
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Our parents were fine but not really
up to the task though neither were theirs
and so on back to darkness and so
what more backache more allergies more
stuff you don’t know how to get rid ofthe closet has been full since we moved
in and the water reaches only
so far as leaves tightly spin up a
bit and then a small spiral down butdon’t worry about these discarded
takeout containers from the cheapest
places someone will clean up laterafter all look at the precisely
folded mountains the peaceful cold lake
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Having darkened my hand with dark ink in
an age when close and
distant are cloudy unaided having
made so much that nobody wants to eat I wait for the latest
historic storm and the
scrape and salt that wakes us too early
or too latemodel mountains pen in
sugared cars I try tolift the snow with a wave
of homemade rhythm into
sky like berries almost blackbut do I fracture some rule with
this spell how many feet do I haveto long for long-lasting mud
and the birds whovisit though we won’t learn
their names this yeareither but the tracks lead
to a curve turningback on itself with a smile
the breath leavesgreen leaves shake
so let’s finish off the crackers
and call them
cookies we can watch
a movie through the neighbor’s
window just
balance on this skull
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riding the hills of Hellas I think of
. The landscape rich with bright
rock parting soil old pines older
mountains. That alphabet’s sounds
and symbols that with a little practiceour tour guide’s tense wanders—
Persephone is going to be taken
the world has been punished
Xerxes again is moving on Athens
Odysseus will have a clever idealoud and sure sun on white stone
the temple of Zeus here
and in ruins
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those anthologized ones could sing
a line like beaten gold and decree
the world this way or that for time
present and time to come but now
we face exile if we fail to laugh
at those who reach deep into earth
and instead must waste so much
pixelated paper for no
more than a productive cough
our hands are too weak for oars our
feet too tired to climb the hill
and report on the clean air so
we ask the wrong question now that
the mountains have lost their last green
spirits but we have no one
no priest to pronounce the signs singing
from the steaming liver—but no—let’s not
soil this by dressing up in a song long gone
one day the animals that remain may
gather to snort and stamp a sweeter
melody in air free from our cardboard
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though the mountains take more we can laugh or move underground in the spring of shrunken expectation she walks away in the middle of a sentence
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When the woodpecker stops we long for the woodpecker in the smashed cups maybe a clue to someone’s mood but you could learn as much with the simplest PhD course of course it comes in a matte finish though you really should shower if you’re going yes I agree that the smallest movements of hand and eyelid give away what we would keep hidden though they say billions of years ago we were all part of the same supermassive star so how much are any of these secrets really worth
but that’s how it is with the old suns dying new worlds being built wash repeat flies finding their way and the song losing its magic the meal you once loved so you try some new devotion a different mountain but if that spark is gone there are still ads for medicines we can’t afford and terrible news every day where was I going with all this I guess what I’m trying to say is that the patina gave the piece most of its value and all that went away when you cleaned it
other animals 