Monday, February 21, 2011


also for Sandra, after "poor poet mothers"

yet hit by, coming into
the fact as it is, the hawk out
to words

everything manipulated, as left effort
's where my eye goes
what I acquire, getting up

half as brittle, what occurs
and what would sooner so
both our properties

and separate in a way, compared
to a black heart, that will before finished
compare the moon and so the moon in our figure stays
fact, cheap and transforming

only so thou art not got out
this evening, not nothing, anywhere
and say nothing more endless broke

tough land stays
illumined yet with me, I'm in

marriage, bid it say less
stuff while I'm seeing grass stay
finger tops, or it being a circle, be lies
rings not of this stuff except in name
my friends operate

and oh why should her thumb
come in, this in which
faith that she's with me
comes out

soon broke, preciously lessened
which art since
I'm on

who not loves it to be justly proud
but would break it were
I not in

I helped this way
the harshened possesion motherhood is
and a left effort