Thursday, October 21, 2010


the advance the slip the pitch
who can remember these words when needed?
or their human configurations it was a black place
it is late already there is a ladder against the wall
a backyard some cigarette butts a dog or two
no light enters here between the forehead
and the prehistoric I almost cannot speak of it
but am guided by owls
a tilt a summoning into the familiar
my name it speaks my name and how
can I do other but step down from all this
into all that the advance the slip the pitch
it came then the understanding
that this was a summons into a place
in which there was only drowning
blah fucking blah at night they shoot the owls
around here
I miss a train the cab driver has to stop to laugh
when I tell him where I have been
oh no he says oh no you are joking
but I am not joking I have been there
and like a paycock I am shot down later
with words and slow fire flapping
as in their caves they sit drooling
black blood
knowing little else now
sure of themselves and their big bodies
that didn't open
not for a second


No comments: