Poem : gonna go

gonna go

          — gonna go for this

— gonna hold the stick

                    — carrot 'til it rots
          hold the end of the branch — the end of the wick
a candle over each eye

snuff the lot —

the instrument of good — pincers
of domain and collapse

                    — thank you for the booming violence —

          — the bull the horn the melting

          — the hangin' swing

     — the thermometer of the clouds
a swirl of bait n switch

Poem-A-Day #339 : Hope Chest

Hope Chest

The box full of things - unnamed as they are -
hold the history of place in the reflection imposed surface

The sun comes from behind eclipse - it
momentarily explodes - loses itself - becomes a break in the lack of air

This is opening - a seam of paper tape - a fold
sun echoing in pulp - in dust

What are these broken lines of thought
burning a hole in the universe of a closet - they flap like broken doves

Beak cracks - the rubble of it - a light bearing
fruit - rotting and burning and searing the faces of memory

Poem-A-Day #38 : Oilcans

Oilcans

At some point in the future                    there
will be an explosion                    we lock the barrels full of explosion
                    to keep us safe

But then the explosion will ferment                   will somehow find a way
as it must                    because that is the way
                    Do human bodies melt like popsicles in that kind of heat?

This evokes Sartre                    his hell in other people mythos
pouring from the rain spouts                    filling the barrels
                    meant for the gardens

He rises from his tomb                    he dips a toe in the water
collecting on the tops of sealed barrels of explosion                    and it doesn't melt
                    but it certainly can't feel good

Source: Bibliotheque Nationale de France/Gallimarde