ekleksographia

From the clatter
of sleep fleeing
mirrored eroded woods     chill paths
by boreal gales
some invisible animal was rutting
in an enclave
high up the spotted mistle thrush
tirelessly weaves its leitmotive
a dog digs out a mare’s lung

leaden memory
undecays in tongues

February 22nd, 2009

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Congé

Many shall dreadfully be
swept away in the dark wilderness
into draining silence
into the ice floes’ vague hell

yet already the impetuous mortal
fusses in the winter-room
dusty mirrors  faithless shadows
before daylight he drifts away shouting
Spring waters! spring waters! clogs and clodhoppers!

Over the fringe are harvests and raffles
snares forever for the fool who garbles and strips
inoffensive mute in a cheerless land

March 1^st, 2009 

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Offshore (note)

Wondering nebulous ebullient cloudmass
the fraying effervescence of their hollows and lumps
where acid light is seeping
darkly it piles up to the north
parapet dense and numb
square soot-block suddenly falling heavy
onto the bag-lady’s nurturing hide
as she wryly crosses
and uncrosses her swells

and a sea wind begins to stir
and torments us

August 9th, 2009

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If You Please

1
          There
             are
large more or less
patches of purple cabbages
and waters choppy and green
shred themselves against the dike

corroded bleeding ingot
(shoddy alloy) unrecognizable
Christ Our Lord slant crooked
dangles in his glory
on his propped-up gibbet
squeaking in the north and the salt blackened winds

2

The rain drenches the mug
of l’homme-qui-dit:
"Saddlery can make me a living no more
the smell of soup reaches the gipsy camp
and the blue detergent the gutter
all is ancient   time
flies or a spirit
passed before my face
ignorant   witless   here I am
from now on back to the pit
on the wrong side of nothing
            and no
            home

but say say in one two hundred
years then thousand when
pigs will have wings
and toads beards
what shall become of your bones
            bite-size big and bio-
            degradable
our however awfully small
            immortal soulz?
but hollering here I quibble and flail
about my universal drivel  tell me  if you please
tell me what it means to say"

3

at the side of the road an older one
under the wild rose
awaits the pestilence
three three taciturn crows
turn in the rosy sky
the downpour has simplified the plain
the copious wind clears out
it all stinks quite nicely

October 26th, 2009