experim e

experim       e

the     re

dr      ive

all      ure

star    e

str      ing

bol     d

the     ater

cpstn

cpstn

ahhwrrrrrckckckggggvuwwwnne

dormevnoo ocmeoogk corjoela gididkal fiela

dox enneo theicmmeo annidem voe

veeo viemg hheoamn diem lws telll

thrparntr bu thhyyknw

bdiemmk aqpek``m cigmem bmoeo

coeoo vmme oo ahiiel biii. biie mm

ahhwrrrrrckckckaiuhhhgrrnkshppt

rinse

rinse

rinse curve vase chip water

draw it along dust fence

and crack wa-da-da wa-da-da

slat echo till sundown heavy globe

bing bing streetlight spoke tensing

orange green leaves trail slush red

white incandescent flash missing spring

ball limbs and hare whisk you plunging wave

start last year? a line upstream translational

cup over yeah he’s the real golden guy

batter! and just hangs like

rose

rose

contour drawing before winter’s early

dusk paper too thin wrong ink-hogging

nib earthward curved cradling petals

black-red shadows of rose green leaf

in less than an hour it will be what

we call sunset possibly golden where

then the white-rendered shine of

the cut glass triangles in the vase

curve and point of the darkening leaves

chickens--field

chickens—field

speckled fowl range over green

baize grass shards strewn glinting

white field leans stretched

now asphalt challenges yellow

bright yellow white almost

drops in air outward wrench

blue rooster ranges in orange red

tensor bloom outward besides

stipple rusts along dry

blue rooster—white chickens

speckled red hen—black rooster

gray hen orange chickens green field

  (first draft before 11 January 2009)

hoop

hoop

like thin wire circle arc line

as calder if not

cage—moon horizons

downtown boom unlace boom lace

hoop intangibly off paper

off tables—lines

rather obsess than solve

 (first draft before 11 Jannuary 2009)

ocean

ocean

stickseed waves rush blue

water—green, yellow, red shouts

across a strand pitch

Treasure

Treasure

Jack o’ Hearts past the barrow, quiet,

never running. He slips faithless

to the lock, the boarded gate.

Ulysses, in another Alexandrian rag,

mere Jack of parodic icon would

have sailed in, swift—half

broken but bandied swift to the full trumped hoard.

(written around 31 October 2007)