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My life interferes with its living.
My life interferes with its living. This some would consider treachery, but I know who pulls the strings and who forgives the criminal his crimes. Nearer to the last station of the cross, here is where most weeping happens, now that harshness enters hearts and onlookers finally witness the end, finally get their moneys worth Read more
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Communing with Zukofsky
Writes “B 1” (unabridged version) Deaf musicians play deaf music… notes on sound look like sound. Yet in the ear’s mind slosh around unbidden, replete as cowbells in the pasty hands of the visionary. The sound so much floats that it is air on a carpet of thought. Bypassing actual surface sound, Instead sticking to Read more
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“Il faut vivre dans le silence” (a scene from Goddard)
Il faut vivre dans le silence, she says, but only because she wants to be in films as a face whose language falls from her body and whose greatest act is disappearing in a Paris café staring into a glass of wine, a cigarette between her lips hanging like a vacant kiss in the movies. Read more
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The days leave me
The days leave me Unlived, eloping with The calendar of dead Seasons and hives of Warring minutes. I remember so many things, All vacant, an unruly Film of cut scenes and Unresolved development. Lost in silence, my Thinking reasons loss of Memory, maybe it’s what is Needed so the known, as it Dissolves into a Read more
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The Good Hour
My waking decline trembles In the good hour As it turns toward The secret face of dream. Your touch upon my shoulder In the dark leaves A handprint of clover On the horizon Of your parting. Read more
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What Remains
I have gone From me, this Slinking gallantry in shuddering Bliss of what remains of joy, Unsheathed in the desperate Brightness of your light Beaming like A dripping carcass On ire’s gleaming gambrel. Read more
Umbriate Press Poetry 