Friday, October 1, 2010

Crag Hill

Colors Out Of The Wound

Woods mirror themselves floating between two worlds.
One sees who had made himself the under-world,

what vistas needed an expensive eye,
what grain and arch of claustrophobic shadows.

Signed Without

Conception, incompetent response,
wrongly narrowed with dust and bones.

Imminence is not thinking of that supposedly
viscous, thick dispute.

The misunderstanding uterus of his mother
dying now that he does not mean.

Remember in the eyes, not voice the wildness.
How they trembled in the poem.

I Hated The Neutral

I’d feel all my strength turn over renewed soil.

First seed or bury the gutter and stay there?
One is planted, any strength inside you!

Dry stalks and weeds are your brain taken up
and regrets that are phony sentiment
or daydreams, a clean harvest.

What’s in front of you to be born in?
Practical stuff like how to cut always turns out best.

Late chickens.

When Things Court People

He was this idea pushed further by having killed.
Experience the weeping independent of that system.

Meanings are running through the influence of the world,
the salt-torpor of shacks, sunsets.

I’ve seen guys stick their creditors for a crap of paper.
It’s a way of playing a real satisfaction.

No comments:

Post a Comment