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EDITORIAL

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LAGNIAPPE

MAST

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Canned Cloudscape

Deadwood grove - she dangles her first kiss in a creek.

Her supple hair, lubed to a wisp, like tin in landing-lights.

Virgo to Pisces: "Miles apart

                                                  . . .miles apart."



There are preludes - and there are preludes -

smell of steak in winter   what of it?    streaks on a window,

birds on furlough: the unfold designed. Sculpture of error.



Some things shall never be reconciled. Believe it.

I have borne clay-tinged water - have hated my yoke.

I have been swallowed by clay-tinged water -

                                                     strangled. . .



She's a fraction     an assemblage     her kiss is glue,

tinsel a-melt birds aloft by wire they can't cross

paths miles apart but the start of a new field




Paradelle with Terrarium


Day will whittle to abetted soundlessness.
Day will whittle to abetted soundlessness.
Grass is an assertion of grateful non-rest.
Grass is an assertion of grateful non-rest.
Grateful soundlessness will whittle to non-rest.
Grass is an abetted assertion of day.

Perhaps I shall burn, avatar of kindle.
Perhaps I shall burn, avatar of kindle,
The familiar feeling when looking through glass.
The familiar feeling when looking through glass.
Kindle the familiar avatar feeling when, perhaps,
Looking of glass, I shall burn through.

Rainily, fields peopled with quiet balloons.
Rainily, fields peopled with quiet balloons.
Persimmons and globes now clamour to shatter.
Persimmons and globes now clamour to shatter.
To balloons, the fields peopled with shatter.
Persimmons and clamour, now rainily quiet globes.

The day shall rainily shatter through assertion,
clamour. "Feeling" is peopled non-rest.
Looking grateful now I whittle persimmons, burn balloons, perhaps kindle quiet, familiar fields of globes
with glass and of grass. To will, when abetted,
an avatar to soundlessness.