TO SPIRITS OF FIRE AFTER HARVEST

 

 

Between earth
& its noun, i felt a fire…

—What does it mean by “i,’’ Mrs?
—It means, (& i quote): one
      of the vowels in the brain
& some of the you’s—;

we were interested in the type of thing
humans can’t know,
interested in kinds of think animals think
— a rabbit or a skink! (Eumeces skiltonianus)
when autumn brings a grammar,
    wasps circle the dry stalks
    & you can totally
     see through amber ankles dangling
              in dazzle under our lord the sun
              of literature—

Between noon & its noun,
there were ridged
& golden runes on pumpkins…bluish
gourds— in the fields…
(their white eyes lined up
                 inside)—Wait a sec. Please
don’t nail the door shut. The air is friendly
& non-existent as Veronica’s veil —…

Earth, don’t torment your fool,
your ambassador clown. Bring
the x of oxygen & sex, a fox
running sideways, through present noon —

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GRAMMAR OF THIS LIFE AT NOON

 

 

The immortals wait in the fields.

And the newt under the laurel (a dragon
     whose three heads argued
     with themselves—),
      the push thistles, celastrina echo butterfly
with automatic semi-colons
on its wings— (‘twill hide
under the clorox-
      cloud— & that’s that! some punctuation
is just too sensitive to
be outside—)
                          Stubby white
      teeth on that baby vole:
        smile on its face—screeep!   like
      gnostic Jesus, its comma-comma-comma
      claws. Clause—verbless mosquito-egg
         daylight…
                      Worker, dreamer:
your soul has slept with
            countesses so long
      his hands still smell like money!
             He says to himself:
          my lord the sun has thrown
his sexual shadow upon me…      (oops!

Where did it go?)
—It’s just fallen behind something.
(What has?)
—Whatever you lost.

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