existence in the parts
Until I am better,
let the leaves fall freely and on dry
tentatively crisp, the carcass of the fall,
the placenta of the spring
and let them fall, fall over me
who drifts from no to where,
looking for a home of brisk oak and mahogany too
furnishings of all and many reduced sizes to fit the room
Appendage to a gaping whole,
where icky trickling falls behind of tar
where the delta of intricate machines goes undistinguished
and other lines of scholars are colored from behind
my water’s ink grows lonely every time
to stretch a million, sapling arms is to
stretch the band from the middle.
To those who say it is too elastic:
expanse yields and form takes
but hell does come to those it breaks
and snaps and traps in circled caps
put down on paper its distension
press down in pen what is left
of a substance.
A list of my favorite things,
abridged, neatly, contently, orderly
enrolled in the wary tides of adolescence
just, diluted tempered water clear in devastation
clear of pains and squeaky of tragedy.
I heard silence, I smelt of smoke
the polity of poisoned youth
scented fibers in my clothing,
nameless perfume for one whose name left,
with the moon became, with waves retreated,
with the sun set and with winds conceded
what hearth was to me.
Will I ever know?
where they drifted, where my list of things beaches
so I can recite it again, as my memory withholds
will a native of the island reach
and mail the contents of my schooling bottled
and my tongue will move in its pace and cover its terrain
and remind itself.
If the green bottle comes,
let me lie alike
and the leaves fall as the creek runs up with water
written fragments are the faces of mothers, brothers, sisters
staring through a mirror
you hold up yourself.