PREVIOUS NEXT FIRST PLENTY, from briefest Moment...

Blake's Satan Inflicting Boils On Job
from briefest Moment

Memory & Foresight joined
into (a Bulb of insight)
yellow & blue & melted

themselves into Th'Sectile
droplet of the murmurs muted

while all Th'Clodhoppers of th'tiptoe Afternoon
tapdanced from The Manifest moment

for The Stillness... all over the hide
of Eternity as it peels th'mistrals

of Th'Moods unmoving in the currents
of Being--The Evenings howling upon the tardy Rose

closing) into its moist dark browns
between th'inoffensive poor
and the defenseless poor
smoking shadows in the consuming Dark

The Winter burning & barking
all the blessings of the Light

like, Beauty's enough, enough (al-
ready)'s Beauty--That is all

The Knows you need &
All You need a nose...

like the demon God doing His poetry
(which should be read away from
noise) and barefoot, at least,

Th'Blessed lad of Nature
betrayal's virtual drunk, turns
solemnly upon the spreads of natural Imagination

pale & lucid(ly pearled), sweating
Th'Immaculate World--Tons & tons

of the whitest-ever Indignation
tossed within Confrontation's froth & scum
amidst th'threadbare images ( Midnight's
highest vanity)

              ... roaring risks
bedridden, Man wakes suddenly to say: "O,

goddammit--Hey! Who turned ON
th'fucken Light!?!" and then goes back
to sleep

     ... to dream of The Living
tired of fighting The Dead (but restless)

in th'Hailstones' pantomime
Th'Saint Lucifer scythe slashing

& slashing th'Sigh of living
from the too human Eye--

(a whole Cosmos tear in a bucket of blush)
the faithless, ancient fathoming Wings

folding like tolling bells

Th'Substance of those inhuman murmurings

shining Hiroshimas & darknesses spiked
with wrinkled whistles & pauper sparks

but tiniest noises farther & farther
away (like feather-weight balls

or self-contained floating worlds)
momentarily uplifted upon The Infinite (draft's

erratic stirrings) Collapse's enclosed

by Description's daring Know
from the leaves) faithless as leaves
& insisting on letting themselves down

in order to kiss: Death! itself too ponderous
(a Something)

  ... to rise up to such
flaky lives waiting forever beyond

the foreplay firmness
--stuck against Th'Stance of Time

Inside the cradle of our Skull

lopsided prologues & Pain's hoary youth
th'unceasing consequences/sequences

Progress! that's reprimanded
by the tidings of its own Tide
traveling though the octaves of those troubling
scales (of Time & Position) in a dead calm

Greatness' glorious Grave

prismatic timings but the fickle winds, frozen,
with their many mad hands keeping Th'Lovers apart

      ... prolonging The Ecstasy O
no matter how much The fell leaf seeks its

     ... the far too level-headed
telescope Mind's puncturing its way ever
into The Cosmic Womb
Kandinsky's Composition X
              ... Chaos
the holding of all shapes at once

--Perfection, that rare human vice
a virtue only in God

hovering above us Wonder's weighty
plumes ... as far as the half-trips
of those in-coming photons dogged up again

& carried off--Up to the lithe
Cradle of Stilled Birth

Death th'wondering Wind
withering in its own wandering

troubles-tinged, shouts & shouts growing
& growing doubts

--Although (had he wish't it):

Man could have thrust in his Free Will
or willies (as easily) & interfered

himself so silly: to grant The Suspended leaf
its well-deserved repose

finally falling upon Th'Rest

Ah, but The Wind, wise as He is
(from not living) and maybe even sensing

Man's low, ghoulish Intent (after all)
carried The Leaf


                   ... away
from Man's mortal reach & repulsive preaching

--Yes, the Wind! which must have her in mind,
maybe, for some much more essential tendency

than the just Fall.