what sound would surface near the sound
near the end of winter’s statement
the iced-over suns unmoved gulls
chase gulls for morsels of mussel
what sigh from that sharp air what would
we hear if I said no thanks to that junk
on the horizon if I could tell what
I hid so well do I wait for the cold
green mornings to split into petals the
color of what’s buried taking thoughts
I would have wasted but what would it sound
like opening my mouth the way I
want do I keep carving notes on sheets
of ice as herons hide their necks
Tag: mouth
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It’s the way though innit the muse leaves
and your mouth aches for more song, but
the veins are filled with foul air and
dust muscles do not move So what
do we wait like house cats why notas long as we’re in service we
must serve and hope the mistress one
day deigns to lay down a circle
of honey no, of course we’re notworthy but keep the pen handy and with
any luck we’ll find some lunch and
sell a few things and maybe tipthat dusty bottle from the snow-capped
shelf where the third expedition failed
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But how can I talk about it my
images veiled and the word I want
grows small in a mouth while no one waits.
The waves haven’t stopped for a minute but
amidst the churn there’s a still bubblereserved for you and one other though
there have been so many lost packages
and delays in dreams in which you slowly
suffocate while delivering the speechthat could have saved you and in the back
of the room that talk that you wanted to
have with her maybe just a few words mightdissolve the dam but I think too much
of the poison hows the light escapes
-
From as safe a distance as
possible and with the best
of what was left in those days
we stared into the center
for millennia blackholes combined coalesced
larger repeat larger
and the news sites with
a fresh hope each day butwe knew and couldn’t stop
staring into the all-
eating mouth where a fewstrands of light wove a final song
through empty stars already gone
-
so hungry all day things falling out
of my shirt this cavern of a mouth
bitten raw again for what I want
to know now a game of second guess
ing that makes a tiny day night thenfollows me to the second bedroom
for a scratch I walk I try to read
maybe meditate a snack perchance
a book but nothing stills the thirst theburn of the sound of the chorus its
latest fine counterpoint while I pace
and hope for some end to this chokingmaybe soon some tuneful bird in
terrupts to tell me I have slept
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Fragment 71
to keep my optimism fueled for this thing. I still can’t tell if it’s working or not or if it ever will, but can you
it’s not the worst assignment you’ll get just wait until your task is repeatedly plucking the legs of various cicada from the gaps between their rotting teeth you’ll want to go back to blatantly secreting soil from the fingernails of fresh corpses before those hoards encircle the city once more fulfilling the prophecies that
really judge that standing in the middle of it? I’m still not sleeping very well. I think I might have to go back to journaling
wafted from the mouth of a lost puppet by way of the museums of mice who have feasted on the rusted flesh of a half-eaten apple in the dust of a reluctant decision gnawed on for twenty years which is whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the bland job I neither hate nor love or bow to the boughs of trees the crowded subway the bass line of a new song deified in the sun-symphony of her hair her smile but can worn images steer worse to better the cards show no numbers no suits just your reflection in the mirror across the street beyond the sparse forest with darkness closing in to sleep
before bed. I did do an extra half hour of meditation last night and I think that did help me get to sleep. But then it was so hot in the bedroom that I was sort of tossing and turning a lot. And I think M was feeling the same.
softly beneath the black warmth of the legs of your horse the river talks loudly tonight and through its nature imparts a restless feeling to those who love to be astonished so we may once again make a claim on the portion of the kingdom we believe is our birthright but the verification process is tedious and it’s more often the other way around grasp it too tightly and it shatters cuts your hand and everyone at the party looks and I bought so many things that had to be indexed labeled filed maintained to feel some emotion in regards to consumer accessories my skin was getting better but yet it was not enough I could say that my plan was not quite world domination though I knew what I would have to do but one day the mountain carked
and ran through what was left of the town the people stood by as they had for so many generations and I felt the wind on the sand on my thighs looking for an escape well I might be busy that evening but we’ll see it doesn’t sound enticing but I can’t say that to him you know how sensitive he is about these things and it’s only now that he has found the tools with which to deconstruct the various elements that form afterward instead of watching the snowball
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A special Samhain section of Fragment…
it’s certainly not the worst assignment you’ll ever get just wait until they ask you to pluck the legs of another cicada from between their teeth you’ll want to go back to using a toothpick to dislodge the dirt from the fingernails of our fresh corpses and find a way to harness that moisture before the reluctant clouds encircle the city once more as they slowly waft from the mouth of a lost puppet by way of the mouths of several mice who had feasted on the rusted flesh of a half-eaten apple in the dust of a reluctant decision
-
what would it sound like
to walk out on the soundgulls chase
gulls for a bitthat sound
breathing
needlesso I hope for green
through the still black
door to see color to
burst into bloom into
color burst and burstwhat thoughts I would have liked
putting them on a shelf orbut what would it sound like
opening my mouth the waythe white heron hides its neck
am I too latedo I keep
taking notes on sheets of ice
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can’t remember if I’ve read this one before and dotting the letters that need sway into a ditch made muddier by my mouth and how do you say all the that’s inside behind mirrors twisted down a blind alley stuffed between cushions on a couch no one likes but no one wants to give away
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something other than the hook in your mouth? Hold the end of this
(First published in Under the Basho.)
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no matter how many pages, this, sitting in your chest and tomorrow, well, we can’t leave it here, not with his allergies, and like the art of conquered people, the distant clouds, what’s the word for a menacing sound in the distance, of course this is hardly a proper sendoff, still, the heart, and in his pockets the crumbs have pockets, though listening to these books won’t put groceries on the table, and the trees stopped blooming so suddenly, as if tipped off about the whole affair, sitting in the corner drinking water, as the poets of the anthology warned us about, and suddenly deer on the edge of downtown, this humid air and itch, and I lose interest in the delicate structure of the pastries, will you just open your mouth and say maybe
other animals 