late summer
the sea or bay—
actually—is
enough. a handful
fits in the mouth
easy. gone is gone
is gone. in poetry school
& in life you learn a word
is elegy
for that which it signifies (a rule
of semantics) by way
of stevens. by way of the sea.
how dry. even this sea: dry.
a house neatly
built
of popsicle sticks.
an herb garden
resting
on a ledge above
the sink.
steam filtering through basil
leaves. hot water & porcelain.
by this logic, elegy is an elegy of an elegy.
and grief a failure
of necromancy.
zombie poem, be.
hailing clouds
today cumuli
resemble semen
ribboning in chlorine-
blue pool water
in this mood
i mind the root
meaning of words:
how ore comes from ear
or earth & or-
ifice comes from mouth
or wound
i am bound
to attach import
to a leftover ache
that is to say a beck
& call: you
there—the gondolier—
the lovelier
of us—with exposed opening
& closing heart valves—
in imperfect halves
an exceptional hard-on-
yourself look
say: blood clot-
shaped cloud-ridden sky—screw
your moonlessness
& your moonlessnessness
then name it—
cirrus priapus
cirrocumulus thrombosis—
to escape the pother
that flees
too slowly
asperatus
in 2009 the founder of the cloud appreciation society
along with his fellow arbiters announced a new formation
the sky has inverted earth’s rolling hills siphoning the green
from them to make a blanket that waves
at god-time. undulatus asperatus. this is another/different
cloud poem. an ode, to our unmade bed, a gas-rendered
ceiling. pre-boiling-point forms impress each other
shifting the moistening cotton and foam. everything white
everything upside down. there is no distance in this metaphor
greater than its exactness. not likeness, equipoise.
imagine the city we live in, known for steepness and sparseness
of anything flat. imagine the soft, pliable earth manipulated
by geothermal happenings—a hot giant invisible hand molding it.
these our bodies. what we unmake shape heaven and earth.