The Psychics
–
I left myself off at America, where the psychics
Told me to go. I let off there. My inner ear blazed
On and on, as those shapes all slid away. Voices
Dispersed, on the hump of a camel I ride, and the
Names of those trees elude. Water was my guide,
Smearing my white face into focus. The red maps
Of pianos, the auger, the sunset of that tiny chemist.
The lapse of a maiden aunt, the rain about to choke
You with its prowess. I like the way this river
Records what it no longer even is, the past now, the
Truths balling up like yarn. That branch turns in
The light like our fellows, who shuffle off and go
To a dance. The inner reaches of projection, the
Cars that blend with the noise, as surprised as we were.
Signs and More
–
I am well again! The ripped apart molecules
Of, hello? Hello! (The Vienna Boys’ Choir I
Believe). My noontime cigarette, the old
Skeletons rattling their cages. The lithesome
Woman, your complete love of damage &
Smoke, like making love while running a
Step away. A statement you can never retract:
I love. White sand into green, the problematic
Ocean spreads itself out. We take it in stride,
And we do our best. My desire is ‘damaged’.
The caress of dolphins underneath the glowing
Waves, the subpoenas of aluminum are un-
Settling. Windshield distorted with heavy
Rains, the lane is ending, but don’t ever merge.
Photograph © KJ Photographie