for K.S.B.

America the scrivener: autumn calls
with a mouthful of stones

the evening rattle of dishes
violent: whispering

broom handle: cobble stone-- hands
search the coarse surfaces of things

thorn covered therefore more
cautious dark-- dishes between stairs

the bloodsweat
ringing through

the little man in my pocket says
the needle is passing through

even through the prisoner's cell
light, sound and air must pass

all manner of things must pass-- hands
(sinking words) fit for filling urns





Parker Posey

Parker Posey-- tonight
I'm tired and dressed
like a samurai

this is how I write
when I'm dressed
like a samurai

this is how I write
when I'm the shadow
of twin-elms

classification-- the 
organization of a
universe of items

incest or Niagara
(a hillside)

(a tower)

orderly flow
of traffic

through time

Parker Posey-- tonight
I'm feeling ineffectual
like Lyndon Johnson

as if my former
self had been assassinated
and I'm merely standing in

question of interiors

a  warning as the example
of commercial use

(lending itself to)

even the smallest things
have moral meanings





for G.O.

(psal)twater
variance sequence


in-tune that which follows (of the forest)
the smallest word (bedding down)
the slightest movement to

			trace/vision
effort-lessens to path's widening
not any hands had held it
told taxonomy from clear-glass
			
			traced out of it
dawn from simplest motion
stability in instability structured from landscape
(they who are there

			their paths)
nasturtium held for clarity (the leaves that shade them)
hands tangle-- the arc
of attending	

			traced out of 
catastrophe (faith)
imaginable condition of a wild staring out
sequenced (confronted not answered)

home