insect life in October opens

to the golden maw of leaves

my mother says let it all in

to the light the bright grief

lonely mama a mind in a vase

a voice in a vice the flies line up 

in lonely dying rows strange 

feelings all and the leaves

still on trees are coming

as they go though I can’t 

stand eating dinner alone 

all the time with our forebears’ everripe 

pears pureed in the soup 

ladled in orange squash

soup with pears, a buzz

where a bubble should be 

then the coast throws itself 

against the sea a thousand 

eyes and none of them mine




oro opo-opo song and 

meshi mushkil history on 

it digging this forward

toward long sewn sea


glorious imperial hegemony

as fish-tank castle ruin


now you see it now


the boat the bird borne to

Borneo set in morning after

mourning spoke in bleeps


deleted eyes of those in love of

those in futurity’s bitty

bidi smoke problem trailing

beads of fat of flaxen tatters

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