Congrats to the puppy boys.
This one is from Karen Weiser
when I say virtue, I’ve fallen from my chair
At the end of the table is an ocean to cross
and an ocean is never in shambles
like a book with thirty-four decks burns
St. Elmo’s fire against the white leaf
a door you stand to apprehend
Close your dream and push it away
a sterile miracle of your inner fine ghost
is a morgue with an imprint of sea and continents
a mighty history patching up its root system
to emerge in the pause of identification as work
Visit the planets, take your mind off your eyes
you see assembled around you
what you know. What more do you want
to push through this damaged surface
bric-a-brac hanging from every word
where the red tape should be
No comments:
Post a Comment