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3 Faults of thought
I The wind inches through the garden, Caterpillar halts To watch a moon-faced hibiscus Spit joy in the sun’s Passing face. II Dead season’s gift— The air something other than Blight When the jackrabbit whines For lack of root. III Beckoned by a siren’s hollow voice To the outer edge of a gleaming forest I… Read more
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Letters to Li Po
Each step a slice of time Measuring constant farewells. The dirt I scuff, the grass I trample, When I fall they fall spreading out Around me indifferent and unharmed. ******************************** Unleavened thoughts despair the wandering wind, My life bathed in darkness so beautiful No clarity can deny. Ah, the rustle of sharp winds as they… Read more
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Dear Foundational Knowledge of the World,
I have been discussing you with misters Quine & Rorty, recently. I am told that, as point of fact, you do not exist, as point of fact in itself, reliably & improvably. Moreover, should you exist, you ought not to by virtue of the impossibility to articulate the meaningful proof that you do, inevitably, in… Read more
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My Life, My Coffin
My life, my coffin Lidded weight-bearing load Of my livre à venir, Each page a scribbling On naked parchment I leave behind in a Language that burns the tongue. I am blight embodied in blight. Read more
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The Essential Self Metaphor (Lakoff/Johnson)
A disease of the mind Hurtling through a mist of tears Obeying the curvature of expanding self-loathing Until the metaphor itself, its essence, Dies literally manacled to The shock of the embodied corps. Read more
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This is our nostalgia
O my Dear October, How your immanent blight Recalls my years in service To Shiva…or was it Maya… Never-to care, alas One is to the other as both are to the same: Instruments of soul dispatching from idle hosts unknown. This is really a love letter Chatting under evenings misty shadows. Age is what surfaces… Read more
Umbriate Press Poetry 