Poems
The View from which We Are Leaking
"One day I woke, craving this stark hallucination"
is never a sentence strolling in Kyrie's blue suit.
Snowbanks of sundials (sn wb nks f s nd ls)
waver like flocks upon the asphalt of having written,
deriving meaning simultaneous to-- INK till it blurs.
"Come in," she sd. "Come in. This shop is for the living."
(This shop is for the living?!) Lacunae sift & sort,
institutionalized by bets in dark, Soweto neighborhoods.
Natives shotgun (sh tg n) the maestro (m str )
shotgun the colonials ( o o ia ) ding'd (d ng'd) by satellites
of tire-flung stones. Otherwise the seizures are real (r l).
If we hang with the Goths, we must die in the middle,
in public & on camera. UFOs are how earthlings must deal,
contagious as language ( a ua e) in cinders of sleep.
[Type the coded sequence in-- the small iguana flits
thru terrible space (sp c ) improvising words of fluent
Richter (R cht r) Scale (Sc l ).] In hymns, I can't disperse
this dastardly crowd (cr wd). Night considers the sitar:
I am the sun (_o_) & the heir (ai_) pleated with sound.
One leaking blood from a volume or page mistakes the
view ( ie ) from which he, she, or it, is leaking.
Paranormal Woman #10
If what she's bounty for
falls down out of knees
then organs shall peal
all dozing like musers.
If what she's amidst
5th Avenue can't scumble
her belfries shall fire
singed & vulcanizing.
If what she's shanty for
is sixth of a rumor
leaps deafer than hunger
then nexus shall platter.
If angst is her diary
snapped off in the bath
then Goethe is Dante
tarped in pleine air.
If Donatello's her email
scrapped by a nymph
then she is Olympia
reclining sur l'herbe.
If cousins send kisses
she wakes to carnations
dangled like views
of olde pewter bullets.