1980-1

 

 

Obscure

 

 

This delicate laboratory
of our eyes
in which small doors close
Behind lies that darkness
of the head

Eyes need not tell
sight is already a language
its words
like air
unattached.

 

 


 

 

 In shame

 

 

Speaking from a mouth of pain
who would want to hear such things
am I to sing of pockmarked skin
my ugliness and dismal days
what kind of songs are those?

So mirror take me
earth swallow
my soiled face
and scarred soul
I want to be invisible.

 


 

 

From the sky

 

 

The sky
this great blue
fall
from space
in remorseless
unseen hail
turmoils of light
speaking a jargon
for the eyes.

 

 


 

 

 Parent tape

 

 

If it wasn’t for you
I would have made something
of myself

If it wasn’t for you
I could have done it and gone
wherever I wanted

If it wasn’t for you
I wouldn’t be taunted
by those chances I missed

There’s that other life
I would surely have led
if it wasn’t for you

If it wasn’t for you
who is to blame
for such failures?

If it wasn’t for you
who knows what things
I might have to admit.

 

 


 

 

Darkness monotone

 

 

In darkness monotone
here I lie
attending to a cerebral sky
where perceptions unfolding
shiver with exclamation
while through an electric tide
beneath this skin
beating its numbers
I feel the useless f
lare
of my heart.

 

 


 

 

Another language

 

With snapping wind and heavy cloud
a scattered day
closes

My taut flesh not relieved
where kisses
leave their ache

Tonight earth lies cold
even for a lover
whose dreams are unbetrayed

These awkward lips
try to speak
another language

Words
fall
like dead leaves.

 

 


 

 

 Newly washed creation

 

 

Up there
darkness
clenched stars

Radiant
the dawn
was

transient red
spread
flushing rose

Molten
the sun
itself.

 

 


 

 

 Word machine

 

 

The horizontal voice drives
through tunnels
of printed lines
down cramped margins that score
a mute white glow
unbound
loose from meaning now
as insect rush
they stipple and stut
on exhibition
babbling word machines
do manic dance
while eyes skid across
their jostling forms
which thrash beneath
perception
in a pattern
of assault.

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