Improvisings. Of Sheer Now.

By | 1 November 2019

1: What I’ll Become
I am assembled
a history of what I’ll become

Far off there are holdfasts
cosmos winks, metal and darkness

The mind is also a swirl
needless opera

The divine numbers are a gamble
zero is a place to begin

Trees invent shadow

I cope with presence
a baffling besotted twilight
I sweep dust out the door

There is no pause button
in this immodest heat

I wake up in fragments
a prayer that never surfaces

I bless every idea, glance and jot

2: Full of Indirection
I wasn’t expecting a carnival
this perplexing delirious eclipse

I’m naked
or in someone else’s clothes
reinventing myself
from the thick weave of branches
full of indirection
unkempt endless thirst

I’m less articulate than grass
passing as a human
dreaming the immortal body
a large god of dust

I still smell it in my dreams
a name I’m not sure of

the hey-ho of unmooring

3: News We Carry
There is such beauty
in our runic flesh
Blossom dissolves darkness

Come out among
trees and wastelands
indecorous as poems

Hold my hand as we dance
new as rain

New as what we carry
in our pockets
like lost toys

Weather finds us draped
like leaves
curves of coming and going

To be with skin
held in tongues
of sunlight

The padlock drops away

4: Of Sheer Now
Everything ancient is
among flights
of sheer now
Even my hair is singing

I fall over days
vaster than history
I can’t put the leaves back

The dark is fresh
as rot, just the way
a room is
queer within

Lick plethora
the crushed rose inside me

Recompose me
in my profane air
my homely head

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