poems from Fables

CLUDLIKE


Daisylike, God’s timing
Cloudlike, taking shape like a cloud, responsively
Clean on the pond in a reinforced place of weakness
 clean shadow, star point
The specific control of that deed is no voices only other limbs
that deliver us as to form
Who shall describe it? In duplication or response 
blind dog, escutcheon, blind head, spider
that which played calls forth its similar
when he allowed himself to be destroyed there came forth
a great heat
a great covetous light among stones
taking shape like a cloud, responsively
the meadow anemones along the paths, softly
being in their own head like a cloud….

playing a dark modern game, you acquire 
greater freedom of motion when you enter the enemy deeply

but it isn’t worth it, I think, when I type the email
I break up into crap in a field…

real, not even footage — 
you are there like you are with no one

Here is a message of life brought to me by My Enemy
is that my voice coming
from behind me?
surely

a synecdochic branch collapse or Plant Area Harmony
the method is true and so gives rise to signs of it
its shade is on the back of all things
That dog’s breath smells like broccoli
on a layer of the head just scraped, like, off
but keeping the exact head angle
that way of speaking 
is that all there is
it is all that has been described

FLOWERS


EACH PART IS A SIMPLE THING
BETTER OR LESS
FINAL SURFACE
BOX THST SOUNDS LIKE ITS HEAD
I needed to take it apart to take care of
It
The Roman marbles wearing their miserable faces
I think I might need less than other people do
Of this
More of something else something worse
Crossed by a thousand ideas of shadows
The figure of Little Pearl 
Is edged in light
A grass that opened its eyes beneath me
Of my loves, few know me
In light the grass will open its eyes
Purple eyes, white eyes
The feeling that one must begin again
Each part better or less
A final surface revealed is a box
In my care there was also 
A wish to destroy
What had been made
Crossed by the shadow of many ideas
The miserable faces of Rome in marble
Returning to a room concentratedly
Of my loves the grass will open its eyes
In light without knowing
Named blue eyed grass
White blue eyed grass
Flower star hedge border grass 
Of parts in their own nature are difficult, resistant
To touch, easily destroyed
Each a better part or less
Resistant to its destruction as it enters the 
Whole
Of whom it loosely
To whom it loosely
Neither of these
Each part in itself is simple

THE FIRE ALARM


So she did what someone had taught her
A feeling toward experience
A mark in the eye that continually looks
Like a mountain
On the vague places 
In the horizon
“I rested for a while and no one hurt me”
By a stoop in New Orleans
A woman came out
“And looked at me carefully”
But after a time decided there was no likely
Harm
For a long time we watch the fire alarm 
Go off in the building
“You are wise to resent the praise of fools”
“Resentment is never wise”