As/Is







12.02.2004



Husks & Shall

fill brittle

tradition in with perhaps --

mouth a silk cliche

waiting

above

its twin

halves of lingual roof -- a monster

of peaks

feeling gone immediately

soft

landings as -- is your

kiss

me --

suspended lean as zoo

hyphens

along the buttery hyena

length

of

your only

lux

skin

to soffer with care

or shall

this one ancient

cicada

hollowed

still humming

hallowed

of sycamore bark

be left to its dead

clinging? --

a husk is now

perched

at eye

& rhythms

all mothers

tried

to warn us !

against sounding cool as

drumhead blue

in fine

silk [they say you have sent me

& I see it is true

in your letters,

this exact

blue]

in case of utter loss

or

your terrific Platonic

kind

love