the care of the self


When I awoke today
I looked at my exhausted limbs
and there – THERE was a wave of tremendum
shafts of wild fascination
hanging from every bit of skin
as by whim, as by holy pendulum
I’d like to judge and proclaim
the final voice is nothing but noise
I rage.
I remain.
Hidden in a territory that history does not interrupt.
A soft sinuous sense like solitude or silencing.
Oh man, how’ve danced and surrendered,
circling the city as a mote swerving around the shafts
of light in this barren room. Alive and extensions
of some unknown cause. Fluttering like a scream
in the barbarity of ignorance. I am proud, a huge
pound of ignorance. A huge pyramid of bliss.
I was a dream. A mirrored mirage.
But now, full of fascinatum
I have the holy stream of eternity
wasted as a shadow
below my feet.
I’ve spilled the moonshine over my bare breasts
in the agony of madness.

Contemporary Poetry

no sediment

settling in ever
heavier expanses
like millions of years of glaciers
shifting the crude element of skin
a ray in the spiral of a silent mood
fling the head like a child
oblivious of sight
of experience zooming out the pond into the sky
rocking up and down like a bird placing the sun
as an echo on the miraculous tree
away from the blue waters an afterimage
in the mouth of a fish
like minor fruit
in this vein of flight
into the organs of thought
the measure and intelligence of an irrational kiss
like a cluster of grapes
leaning their shadow
on anything but a memory.



Nihilistic Poetry