Isaiah 40

Liddle lifted up his head
the last hundred yards

take up your spade
dig out the blocks

hold steady-

wait-

I am an eagle

none of my clothes fit
my wings are grown wider now
than the strength of will or wit

the streets become smaller
as I stand on the ground
I catch my head turning up
when none stand around

tendons stretch
nerves burn
the deepest fear
that sky I must learn

there are things which are too wonderful for me
yes, two which I do not understand:

the way of an eagle in the air

and Eric handing his running shoes away-
to the barefoot kid behind barbed wire
before winter comes

and winter comes.

let me not be as one who beats the air
hold steady-

wait-

wait-

lift up your eyes on high

to live the paradox of resting
upon wide air.

My heart, the Ocean

My heart is like an ocean,
It longs to rush and fall,
It rages o’er joyously,
For no reason at all.

Designed for perfect rhythm,
But chaos imitates,
The swell of air and glassy green,
In varying estates.

In wild it reigns harmoniously,
On-lookers it pays naught,
In arms it takes possession,
And looses what is caught.

A plain of sheer affection,
Tumultous and fast,
Touching all our futures,
And ebbing back our past.

a Singularity

on television
Chekov is telling Spock
they’re creating a singularity
to consume Vulcan

on the loveseat
you read William Carlos Williams
to us
bombs becoming snow
bringing dignity
to details and the dead

on the loveseat
Mom listens when I tell her
childhood is a planet
we can never return to
except I think maybe
in a sand tray

You type and talk
you and i
i and you
i don’t really know what’s going on
but I am not frightened

Ah the bright white light
the heat of it
strong white light pulling in
and in
and in
brilliant and poetic
not at all nihilistic
as careless readers
might make you.

Glance Forward # 328

Future husband
if that's you-

up there on the path
the silhouette
with the man's shoulders
and a distinct bearing
of the head

wave.

No need to come nearer
Just friendly-like
if that's you-

wave.

I don't have to see your face
I just want to know you're there.

Off the Sleeve

If Love is a battlefield
How about some friendly fire?

My glocks are neglected
Here, here
you can aim for my sleeve
I am so sick of looking
down and seeing
it
there
everyday

And as for me
and fairness
Well, I've got my
Thompson ready-

And strands of ammo
Memory Brand
Top-of-the-line

it lodges.

An Afternoon With Bishop

the moisture in the air
where clouds are not visible but are
keeps alighting on my
paper
tiny birds
iridescent gnats
of water
tender and small
upon my face

a day of changing weather
wares well within
with her
words
out behind the drama building
next to the abandoned props yard

full of rusted metal shelves
spray paints with no tops
bed frames
ironwork
plastic chairs
one leg missing
a tree stump newly minted
and three frigadares
promising to catch a stray campus cat
inside

i took some
fallen branches
bunches of pink blossoms
the storm did not wash down
but a man with a saw
had broken away
and left
by his neatly piled
severed trunk
tragically homeless
their pink faces cheered me
thoughtless
of their plight
in the stormy darkly coloured day

i scattered them behind me
leading to the door and through it and around the corner
to where i sat
Reading
in the familiar orange armchair

faded by the sun on the arms
smelling like cigarettes
i reclined back
with my black gloves on
tweed jacket pressing into
the homely shape

And i waited as i hung on words
for someone to follow pink petals
turn the corner
and discover me-

cheeks just as pink from the cold
face composed
beautiful
in my gentle
introversive thought

but no one ever came

no one but Elizabeth.

her words subtle and sneaking
sneaking round the back
of me with her colors
her fishouses and her
sweetly faded industrialism

i was reading on
but then
the light changed-

the sun came out
casting clouds white and blue

strengthening them stretching
like cloth bloomers
expanding on a line
or an underneath dress
white cotton privacy
once hidden
now free in the wind

so that i felt like walking

forget the plan
or the warmth of my
seat
for strolling steps
in no direction
and moisture droplets
in my eyes and edges of my hair

i go-
Elizabeth goes with me.

Cat 9:47pm

Foraging boldly beneath the bedspread
purpose undeterred
destiny undetermined
You chirp the inquries of a deranged squirrel
Beneath
daring me like the looming notes
of John Williams' Jaws theme
to engage you
Lurking under the downy surface, a lump
purpose undeterred
destiny undetermined

waiting for a flicker
a touch
a tap
a signal to
ATTACK!
And you tear off across the carpet like a drag race
into one of the other tiny apartment rooms
barely enough space to turnaroundin and you will
Race back!

But you never return.
And when I seek you out
you are sitting demurely
in the open kitchen window just above the sink
your tail just escaping
the cheap blinds.

Exactly
smack-dab
where you are not allowed
purring in undulant unrepentant undertones
at the black night

purpose undetermined
destiny untdeterred.