Thursday, July 24, 2008


I'm in the process of working on this little suite of poems, all derived from the first section.



a grass blade, a truck
a small son
a constellation

evolution is an oblong song
the fishes whisper

the seedpod, the microfiche of twilight
the dewdrop observes the cobweb
a weed, a raptor, the tongue or treetop

a bulrush, an art song
a fossil 8-track of the city

there is, my love,
a stethoscope whose end
is nowhere and whose earpieces
are everywhere


a blade, a small truck
a grass son, the constellation of lines

evolution is a long song
whispering fish and extinction

the seedpod is the microfiche of twilight
the dewdrop, an observation tower for cobwebs
a weed, a rapture of the tongue, a treetop

the bulrush,
conscious of the roseate track back to the city
is a molecule tower

there is my love for a stethoscope
whose raptor
is everything


the glass braid of the eclipse
makes smaller our small sun
for whom consolation
is everywhere
a song of longing
whispered between fish and microphones

a seedpod is the nape
of springtime on the map of trees

[insert song here]
a fossil
a stethoscope with earnestness
but no end


the last bidding of the lips
a consternation of sun

a long song
paths of fish through whispers of
elevators and seabeds

the seed is the mitosis of travel
dew on the rabbit
nap of the tongue

injured by song
or inured to it
strangers come from fossils
stethoscopes with no eyes


the truck, only four, asks
what else would stars do but constellate?

the solution?
whisper like fishes

the paws of twilight microwave
cobwebs wrapped like weeds or bulrushes
around the young

an experienced guide can follow
8-tracks through the city
the way a scientist follows
an atom’s breath

love like a stethoscope
with neither ears nor earpieces


glass stuck in the foot
a small revolution

the immolation of whispers
barbecuing fish

matter grows from light
a cobweb is its own misery

a fossil its own memory

a stethoscope whose end
is its beginning
and whose beginning
is also twilight

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