Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Rib Fish

Some people get punched
knuckle slap, bonecrack
richochets form bloodlakes
behind organs

A viscous waterfall, red,
makes eddies at its landing
I wait for fish to wiggle out
from underneath

A dazzling one would be nice
yellow, yes, and wandering
the kind that feeds, oblivious,
on painweed

The yellow happy rib fish
leaving joy wakes
pinballing the edges
of heartbeat

(5-21-08)

Monday, May 19, 2008

St. Ambrose

St. Ambrose

crawl into my mouth
sting my tongue
this is the origin of language
this is the origin of desire
this is original
before the apple was the flower
before the flower was the bee
taste this
land here
swell here
leave here
honey

(5-15-08)

Streams

They come and hold out their fingers
nearly begging for sting
they bathe and drink
feel fluttered and purified, chosen
Meanwhile there are no special acts
the bees simply wake with dew
with uncelebrated purpose
to collect and deposit,
to protect and churn
These transformations so inscrutable
while we develop theorems for resurrection
try to explain the thick golden initiations
inside our peculiar biochemistries,
and theirs

But yes
here are my fingers
Who does not want the pouring over?
the lively murmuring?
the puncture of possibility?
Who does not want streams meandering
heartside?

(5-17-08)

Colony Collapse

let x equal e
doubled and long, extending
lightless swarms heaped
wide pools of limp wings
this skyline of loss
how bloomless
how hoverless
how goldless
barely a tickle of breeze
through the fallen flowers
and silence

bitter bitter silence

(5-17-09)

toforwith (the bees)

(for Bz, looking up...)


to the yellow cling and the drip, the waiting
for hexagons, pinnacles, an overflow
with want of rising

to lift, then replace "t" with silent "e," longing
for early May
with its plumpness and sting (sometimes without "t")

to reach in
for evidence: life slides easily
with bridges and breaths

to break is to gain something
for now a substance, substantial and sweet
with glow


(5-9-08)

Hum

Hum

This is the way
inside
this beating and this hum
these 6-sided chambers
these hands on wood
these hands on ache
this knife to cut
this scraper to clean
this city inside
here, an infancy
this infant inside
this brood comb
this lifting
this pouring
this bare hand
these netted eyes
this hovering
that lifts us over
this is the way
these bodies and these wings
this wet edge of knife
this dripping
this coming home yellow
this poppy pollen
this dipping
these tongue-fulls
this being birthed
this linger between sweet
this sting risk
this squeezing
this smoke
here, hold here
these gifts and recompenses
this heart swarm
this hum and this beating
this hovering
is the way
in

(5-9-08)