Astride the Hum

 

Spirits who preside

astride the hum

between what can

be seen and said

are never glum
and know no dread –

as long as I make

sure they’re fed.










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What Dinner’s Been Lately

 

Shapes acquire faces

to communicate with me –
show deference to whatever reference
will permit analogy –

require particles in pattern
which suggest trajectory –
symmetry inviting solipsistic narrative
sufficiently declarative to hold a mirror

up to my inquiring eye –
fool it into thinking it is thinking as it blinks.
Lately dinner’s been half-moon shaped
Chinese dumplings –

crescents from a Shanghai sky, grinning
mouths all crinkling at the lips.
Tamari soy sauce – chili garlic paste
enrich the mix:

lend irony
to cheerful cheeks.
I’ve been doing this
for weeks.









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France will Float and Linger

 

France will float and linger
for a day or two at most –

gently jolt me – coast me
through her ghostly wake,

softly breaking into aberrant
dimensions of New York.

Paris is a phantom mildness –
vestiges and memories

of déjeuner two weeks ago:
a cream-sauced cotelette of pork,

subtly bubbled by the Perrier
I sipped as its accompaniment.

A-lumpity-dumpity-do – by dint
of nonsense rhyme,

dismembering, remembering,
I pass the time: imagining I feel

the Ile de Saint-Louis
hold onto me.

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Art Lesson #61

 

Start

with trifles.
Randomly
attract disciples.

Harmony’s
the least of it.
Fuck it till it sighs
to make a feast of it.











.

Harrowing Delight

Sharp and showy

consciousness
shoves cavalcades
onto the stage:

flicks and twists – scintilla –
prick you to response:
everything’s at once –
and gone, death and dawn.

Harrowing delight ignites
in having no idea
what’s going on.









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The Only Fact

One

perceives
what one
believes.

That’s
the only fact.
Perception
is a solo act.









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Approach

 

 

Venture

near the center
of the riot.
Hear the quiet.










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