Great Works: home 
texts page archive next poem
The guests go and we’re inside time.
Now I’ve diagnosed you for
my accumulate arsenal. I wanted to sing
someone else’s song. As a stranger, I sang
to hear the world in each other’s footsteps
at the day’s drifting end, wide with
the body’s organs: the heart spreads
and flattens, the lungs rush and leave,
sends the total loosely in small doses
of mesh rope and skin.
So to pray watch from prison
a piece of speech unexplained,
held aloft or hystericized and handed out
by us who fail our breaths with whole systems:
object, divinity, acquisition, television
and am not by default to continue
seated by the sea with coffee
held black in association with the accident
of the accident, the formal research of what we
are where we remain bodily in spite of space.
I prefer the upper café: tier to the hail outside