Sonnet [The pearl of interval] (audio only)
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Sonnet [Nothing was ever what it claimed to be,]
Nothing was ever what it claimed to be, the earth, blue egg, in its seeping shell dispensing damage like a hollow hell inchling weeping for a minor sea ticking its tidelets, x and y and z. The blue beneficence we call and spell and call blue heaven, the whiteblue well of constant water, deepening a thee, a thou and who, touching every what— and in the or, a shudder in the cut— and that you are, blue mirror, only stare bluest blankness, whether in the where, sheen that bleeds blue beauty we are taught drowns and booms and vowels. I will not.
2008
A Light Says Why
A light says why. From all the poor prying. Again we attain a more regal posture--small bird accompanying slips between our whim. Where will we flicker, loose as two feathers from a wren's back? Gone, do not brood for all the hands that miss you. They hardly hold. Don't wait, one who thought a dark eye could save you, like night with its black paws curled and gone to sleep. There are only two names to remember, Loss and Pleasure, crossed in this field like no man's borrowed light. Call the far-sighted foxes to the launching.
2002
Labor as a Tulip
Labor as a tulip
arrays its flame, nu
form, as the bulb-star,
interred, divines its ore
surging the gulf
rooting it into
appalled memento
pulsing will.
Leaf-blades score the heap.
Other wounds—penetralia—
other worlds, cries, far.
Filaments, simples
emblazoning the rei,
rebus of grief.
Unslumbering terra
premising her kill.
2014