Thursday, November 29, 2007

Nerves(A Cosmology)

Stars, shocks of heavenly synapses, enlighten.
We bend to their grave arrangement.

Darkness is the song.

Sages invoke eternity
in thrall to the neon din of modernity.

Thursday, November 22, 2007



Rouge bruised cheeks
under jaundice hued

promise treasures
swept under day's
clean rug

Pudenda loose and
pocked as

Flit like
dying butterflies
from steel


An army of heels
click the
siren song

Music of night,
sin, and dream
to the timid

as darlings and little
ones slumber
'neath clean

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Kynik Aktaeon (Fragments of a Memoir)

"What is living will only overcome the tumult of annihilation
in the ecstasy of creation."

Einbahnstrasse, Walter Benjamin, 1928.

My favorite hunting experience occurred as I was walking home
with my brother after scoring a few bucks. Our helpers graciously
carried the quarry. We sauntered home along railroad tracks and
some sparrows were settling in the brush. Having some more ammo
gave us a splendid, in the aesthetic sense, idea. Why not annihilate
those precious little birds with buckshot?

This chosen experience lifted twin spirits upwards to the Olympian.
We became the Dioscuri. Dancing midst a cloud of feathers the spell of
powder and shell disintegrated. The bowl of fate was in our
hands! Our bolt flew smiting songbirds to motes!

I thought of poetry and its flights. Annihilating song in tiny birds placed us past Poetry. From the Dioscuri to Apollo is but a step.

We shot death-dealing arrows. We were Gods. Are not our eyes
blue as steel? Are not our locks gold as Helios?

Monday, November 05, 2007


I'm thirsty as dust.

Kiss me.
Sing love into clouds.

Let rain cleanse valleys
where columns rise

Shut twilit eyes.