2.11.09
Late in the Mourning
It doesn't get much better than this....
ARK 34, Spire on the Death of L.Z.:
is this happening,
a quick as a squirrel's tail
spright of deer
but burnished as a
grackle
foci
evenly distributed as nesting sights
or silvery layers of film
over rotifers
trapeze
of paraphrase
in a sphere clumped
pool all a mareshiver
of light
executed in pure
katydid
half Mozart
fits and starts, half stars
both
holywork of oracular oak
thought through
dust's
simplest
scherzo scarecrow
tactics an acorn might
knuckle under
paradise
and pairs of eyes
past
all believing
[page break]
an edifice
of matched snailshell
faced to watch
Bach
in cherubim cliffed hayseed, rayed
cloud in plaster
forever
or near it
as consonance gets without
clef
to unraveled blizzard
huzzah cooperating with treble instances
such as orioles
between tulip trees
seizing the summerier dissonances
of worm
bees purring a
cappella
in utter emerald cornfield
till the cows come
purple home
this is paradise
this is
happening
on the surface of a bubble
time and again
fire sculpt of notwithstanding
dark
the whole parted word
in choir
[page break]
when the wind's bright horses
hooves break earth in thunder
that,
that is paradise
Lord Hades, whom we all will meet
crackling up
like a wall of prairie fire
in a somersault silver
to climb blank air
around us
to say then head wedded nail and hammer to the
work of vision
of the word
at hand
that is paradise
this is called spine of white cypress
roughly cylindrical
based
on the principle
of the intervals between cuckoos
and molecules, and molecules
reechoing:
these are the carpets of
protoplast, this
the hall of crystcycling waltz
down carbon atom
this, red clay
grassland
where the cloud steeds clatter out wide stars
this is
----
ARK by Ronald Johnson
Living Batch Press
Living Batch Press
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