WINDBLOWN AROMATIC HEIRS
fainter and again
beyond the bar
space where odors lodge
twisted
at the vertebra
two strangers
July at the mirror
quietly opaque
driving the back road of an autumn Sunday
a classified ad: two rooms near the beach
evoked a world not wholly incongruent as
a courageous girl about my age would
think me a guide from another world's map
trying to find a way of knowing about stars
gently altered
in step with goats
the milky way
here in the north
there into the south door
we will keep the mice at bay
animal emissary
you wear it to bed
primordial seas
but you have given your hands away and
all ten fingers are married to one ring as I
row toward the rainy ports of the future's ear
there is an absorption in her as the answer
to a diver's arc or hope one brings to this drifts
a sponge found
bubbling in your colony
I’m a single-celled creature
the virus the insurgents’
full-length powered thirst
SHE: “How can you talk politics when spring is so gloriously all around us?”
HE: “The primaries are still going on.”
SHE: “The birds have made their choices. See, even the quail walk about in pairs.”
HE: “Politics are a bad four-year marriage.”
SHE: “Do you believe women vote with their wombs and men with their. . .”
spores go ambivalent
bloom bleep blip
a muse on my screen
chewable tempered
spying the foretaste
the storm’s eye trails
reluctant to prediction
as if there were
oyster-halves’ kisses for two
appraising the speech of space
the scent of lemon-grass soup – shredded cucumbers
an improvised lie in the green humid condition it
has grown to be symbolic of forgetfulness in
the audience there is always one crone
them old
them close
a maze in flight
monarch
division of a number
winged
at her rosaries’ last rose a quake of unacquainted stings
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