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November 20, 2015

Magnolia stellata—
Your funereal bloom
Petals the ground still damp with rain,
Softens my ragged, encumbered pace
That wants to loiter and receive
Your gestured reprieve,
And remain stationed in your sullen grace
Beyond the pensive transport of night
Rolling by and gathering
All wreaths
Like smoky, mingled constellations
Into its colder arms,
And carrying with them
The maimed pallor of its own endless return.

To this place also in memory only
Will I myself come again,
Setting coarser or darkened shroud
Over your barest abstraction of stars…

September 29, 2015

Only I don’t know
How to go—
Hail, negation of pursuit!
(Somewhat more calamitous your silence is to me.)

September 15, 2015

Everything about me heals more slowly—
Rough are my walls of clay
To my own labored swipe of palm;
Their warmth is hesitant breath,
Their rifts, hard shadows’ latch.
Oh pay, pay,
So on my drowsy bones lay
What sensation of renewal may size and buy!
And when I am like an elemental wrought
To span the distance of his realm,
How green an earth would I myself guard,
How soft the closure of its lapis dome.

April 25, 2015

In blowing sand we lie waiting
Like moths in a rough cocoon
For a final swell of sunset to unbury
Phoenix in its vivid transpose of light.
Empress of ephemeral rising
Summon perpendicular to the world
On wings of weightless fire
That brief, spun iridescence
Beckoning us to relinquish or desire
All the right things and resolve
The beauty that is possible,
The ease that wants love

March 26, 2015

Run in heart,
In loudness of blood that excites
Or numbs,
In throes of trajectory
Raw with sheen,
In choreography of rites
Long expectant—

Come the morning
I will do
Something awake
And forgive
Every imperfect match...

March 18, 2015

Back to that already shifted place
Back to those distinct preparations of the dead
Back to my dream that recalls another
(How blue, blue, blue is the east!)
Now, when even the desire to transform barely compels,
Whom shall I see anew
Walking over
So calmly
In the water

March 5, 2015

to a closeup of SATURN:
may your great, stricken wing pacing above
be my fortunate guide
through division and encounter
along vast curvatures of night
til every slender partition of me
comes to be rinsed of gild
and finds in your kinder shade
that tepid dissolve I adore

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February 11, 2015

Not a place to idle in,
This vale whose silence makes me slow
To approach the blush around the bend
Or retraverse demure impressions laid
On terrain unaccustomed to passage—
But corralled here,
All that my vision captures are
Alien hues,
The grayness of fire

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