Saturnine

October is here
for Mothers and Sons
and whoever wearing
violence; it becomes.

[To root oneself]

To root oneself
in Chinese soil
and grow.

and roiling
around the floor.

Saturnine

It's October again
for Mothers and sons,
and whoever wearing
Violence, it becomes.

[Oh bitterness]

Oh bitterness
you watch a horse.
and I
wouldn't be surprised

if you didn't answer
the asked question?

Molested.

A white pressed
jungle rest-bed?

[I cannot]

I cannot
make this palatable,
I'm sorry.

and I won't lie
when you're distracted with it
I'll escape
with a lock, cut from your head.

Keeping a locket
under featherbeds.

[I just want to feel your touch]

I just want to feel your touch
gently.

and hard.

and running down
your stippled skin
i am
a cautious hand.

a Lucite Spyglass

This weekend, I identify with things in the air
like Polaris, or the muted clouds.

My empathy, now in intestate,
and bearing the brunt of a placid state
ingratiating solar dust.

Apprise

In your mouth i sense your lapse,
like a migrating trout or asp,

whose upstream trek is hard to climb,
and sees his own penultimate demise.

Maurice Maeterlinck

The morning finds
with no surprise
no surprise.

And straining through the view I'll try
to prise a vista
with my human eyes.

Straight Through

Waiting with
a bated anticipation for
symbols

—an act now gone,
with it's erect and stifling terror

when
as if a blunted glitter,
seems suddenly then
not so long.

These isolate
and shaded centers

are like a lonely goldenrod