Glory

The aspect of the right angle in the car

window frame beside the blue-brown of the slow

river, hardly even

I mean it is basically asphalt

and now orient the plane

yes, morning glory

but you hardly deserve the name, take what symbol

you want son but when you don’t got

a seed, that’s what it is,

how the yellow on the cereal

box is less yellow, why

does morning glory lead

you that way, when no

word really, take

the seed.

---Reshelving carts

A life in these carts,

yet the books so quickly return.

finger oil stains the pages

so that they stick

when the binding

shuts. Seeming disorder, why

agronomy and Pynchon,

before the librarian

reshelves.

A moment's bliss

Squeeze a period, for rest,

between the chimneys and brisk

wind, that line of teal

on your cheek, the apertures

were shut but the smoke

pipe and even the Oleanders

pruned to trees glowed

upright,

if the change has in it

a clamminess, if the change

lies apart

It is dawn and some wet

twigs stick through the window

frame. How

several   some sphag

num on the bridge

between joints too

exist so

willingly “don’t

need a lunette” says

they, whether or no

the window clap.

What is it about a dream

a burst of amber stage-

light where tinfoil

heels tap to

the amusement so great

fun is it not the curtains

wave like the live sea

not dead sea as

still as the mirror as violent as

the cloud’s curl.

Lethargy does not exist, the veins

swimming below my transparent

tautness however much they point

to life do not pull my attention

from this viscous string

of thoughts through

which I only rarely glimpse

genesis.

The iron is wrought

as the man before the bathroom

door clenches a fist he

wants   but it is closed he

releases and on the chess-

board tiles leaks

through the ink

          the blank

he hardly knows

what abyss
and anyways color

is nowhere and 

assumed here

when he came to

he stepped off,

arms iron, arms

light.