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Thursday, November 7, 2013



They are busing everyone
With new ideas to a single
Room.  It is huge.  They are
Assigned a single letter of the 
Alphabet and are told to 
Explain themselves.
I don’t go.  I am able only
To speak in numbers.
Some of them are significant.

I recall there used to be
Noises coming from the sun.
I thought it was music.

A single wave breaks in
The collective imagination.

The room of ideas is opened.
It is filled with the sea.
Language floats upon it
Like garbage.

I am asked to explain this in numbers.
These are visual calculations.
They are made with language.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013



The bones were all disordered and covered
With a fine layer of dust.  We were as 
Surprised as morning that we had found
Anything at all.

We heard a voice crying out.
It sounded like it knew
Our names but we could not 
Be sure.  We could not be sure
Of anything.  A green belt around
A pool of water, both deep and 
Clear with a black bottom

That made the surface dance.
And it was exclaiming something
Very important.

The entire scene was an accident
Of the tide.  A blind wind and a blind
Water forced up to make a statement
That could never find words
But which would stand as firm
As God’s promise to a blind man
That he would see again.  But no one
Ever saw.  It became a clipped 
Presence, never offering comfort.

I, for one, choose rain
As a veil.  I will only see
What it allows; the edge
Of an alley, a man hurrying by
Bearing a large vessel that smells
Like coffee.  He has long
Mustaches and wears a turban.

I had a fever and forget how the thing
Ended.  She asked if there was real
Fire in my heart and I showed her
the pile of sticks I had gathered
To feed it.  She looked deep
Into my eyes.  I could see
Door after door closing, until there
Was only me and her once again.
Bones scattered all over the floor.