Indices

light leafs the tree’s candle

a star left behind, in every face

the moon has shown,

somewhere itself 

among swirling planets of jellyfish 

zodiacal encyclopedias light up 

the resystematic universe, shower 

tentacle tailed meteor flickers

–                                                

                                               raindrops

caught in time’s flux,

pale blue shadowdust, whispers

of what is missed

a child’s language, left out

in the watery black night 

to unbound a cosmos,

speckle clad in pearlescent clams,

amid the curdled phosphorescence 

of our silver river’s straw wintered way

a depth met both beyond and beneath

oceans that keep her lost and dotting 

the restless chaos of the cryptic stars,

touching a profile in the constellations 

she can know longer reach or see

in word’s drawing memory 

but find somewhere, above 

the ebb of fatherless moonlight

all the letters written back

Zest

tangerine tangle of flesh        

found its fontanelle,

felt where it begins

and pierced through

the soft sacrament of skin

pulp oozes a patina

along the driftwood grain-

braid of my father’s hands 

peeling quietly 

out of the past 

a piece for me 

and now I sit, in-

habit of an aimless gaze
the glistening eye of the sea

to dissolve and disperse

the melancholy of reality

so that what I feel wafts 

                                           in sound 

and returns back in my hands

a lattice of fibrous memory,

and this skin of flesh

peeled back 

strands infinite

Grand Worm

when the world whirls

in front of the frame you still

and in the doorway, you stand

a pupil torn within your floating eye

the nerve of sound, discordant,

whole, like the severed lives of a worm

breaking the compost zest, with mirror heads

senses elixed into the negative

unblinked by the light its held to,

the colors of yourself body the air

around your outline, but you are myopic

in the sweating slink of your seeing skin,


a slow trickle of fastidious sap, down

the bark crust arch of your palm spine


a segment of the sequence of life

peeping out of the rain spattered soil’s

house of forgotten presence


you quiver on the surface

of two depths, like a finger

dissolving in the line it stems


for the first time, the circle’s

memory of its beginning

in a girl, who pinned

the wriggling squiggle of a flatworm

and watched it grow like cuttings

of the old woman who welcomes her here

in time’s tongued tied gaze-


the ocean


you look to so long, you become