T MINUS FOUR

the first glint, always, is alluvial.
the camera pans his rivered bed, it gleams
the fool's gleam... mahmet's mountain moves: he will
be driving piles into the darker seams.

UNKNOXING

none have i corrupted, none defrauded;
merchandise have i not made. i've spurned,
to glimmer in his heaven, all things sordid
lest (his saints forbid!) i should have burned.

THE GREY AND DAY-LONG MYTH OF MORNING

the grey and day-long myth of morning, keeping
faith with every other vague prognosis,
suppresses thought and elevates the sleeping:
a godless, sterile, clean apotheosis.

acrostic exercise 2t.5/5/2.3: chloe rose, thirteen

clocks and calendars - machines which capture
hours, and cages for our bird-free days -
let these slip by

(overlook, in their precision's rapture):
every unguessed laugh, spontaneous phrase,
resistant cry...

once you've found your own path and you've mapped your
self's course, freed from time's and custom's ways,
expect to fly...