437.
 

 


436.
 

 


435.
 

 


434b.
 

 


434.
 

 


433.
 

 


432.
 

 


431.
 

 


430.
 

 


429.
 

 


428.
 

 


427.
 

 


426.
 

 


425.
 

 


424.
 

 


423.
 

 


422.
 

 


421.
 

 


420.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i don't even care
that the universe disperses
in the slow pulse of rivers
and reversals of contortion
nor do i wonder why

the method is the mayhem
in the cocks of shrews
as the clocks of mood
curlicue at this thunder
that rushes poor lightning
insignifigant in wind

no i do not care
as i take the sword from its scabbard
as i like water charge

the air tremelodiously
so much dissent in darkness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


hin.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

from the bottom of the glass
the glass
is always full

 

 


 

 


 

 

 


rat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

we meet where our branches fork
and our branches forking meet
to the rot of fruit and flower
and a head hung in laughter
which is anywhere forkings meet

not discussing kings i suppose
but laughter slick as sleet
and as oilcloth recoiling
to arabesque and serenade
windblown mirrorshades
of rot and flower following
the swell and broken swallow
of shallows rising well

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


ough.
 

 


ough.5
 

 


actice.
 

 


actice.5
 

 

 

 

 

 

 


aroh.
 

 


handmine.
 

 


non.
 

 


chasing ash.
 

 


erty.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

imagine
the soul of the world
on its approach to eschaton

and in its vast finite intelligence
controlling the meager data
of little things

this is how god is flawed
and in that image
lost

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


the humble.
 

 


we meet where our branches fork.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 


substructure of the heart.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 


my ass.
 

 


my cunt.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 


handtree.
 

 


gl.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 


fist.
 

 


carp.
 

 


ear.
 

 


hitler.
 

 


sidduvindare.
 

 


nch.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 


rubbery duckling.
 

 


ordinary rape.
 

 


nature.
 

 


island.
 

 


avex.
 

 


hand.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 


cat.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i, too, am american.
here is what i am, not
to be digressed by wall,
and like water: mortar

creating abscess in-
shifting shrapnel of
its shell; ballistics
of butterfly minds

in butterfly minds
cold and narrow,
past death's halo
of silk but stone

that tho not lifted
does not own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


ckl.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 


rty.