Tune in like Tolkien
Is rock the same as stone? Which is jagged? Which is round? You can guess because of your natural feeling for sound and meaning. Tolkien had that sensitivity to an almost superhuman degree.
SUB TO SEE
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Speaking sense
We were queuing in BerlinWhen Tom explained the senses:Waves, beams and vibrations,The pin-holes of the eyes. “That’s one interpretation.”In a courtyard, we were waiting,Entering gallery spaces,A nerve-bundle at a time. Then framed before Athena,We quailed before Athena,Thoughts stirring in the oils,Oils dancing though bone dry. Two to make a painting.One more again to tango.And all …
Do business like Christo
Christo put ordinary objects on display as if they were sculptures. By the end of his life, he was presenting whole buildings as artworks, including the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. He took over the world.
Lear
I. Earth’s crown cracks a chasmThrough thunderhead stolid as marbleAnd inflamed fissures glow to fracture‘til anger dies – wretched, self-devoured Such a nightThat the billows bellow bloody murderAnd the sleet sheers through the makeup of a foolLifting layers of grief from twinned, unfathomed poolsThat reflect the insatiate sheets of fire Here the orison of the …
Learning bowls
Lunging forward, knuckles ‘gainst the greenTed demonstrates the knack Bending to the gravity of desire,Consciousness flung just shy of the jack. Downstream: small white andLarge black knock and clack.
Like a match
You raised a finger to draw something.The air had been plain before.Now it wore a triangle. Samurai arranged flowers, you said. And revered nature, particularly trees. Of course, the cherry and the maple still captivate JapanDuring their short, separate seasons of brilliance. These words themselves formed a careful arrangement.You lit white candles so it could …
Montes
The cooling bodyshrinks within its skin,white tissue that folds,creases. Wrinklesline the surface,mountain rangesat a distance,etched into the moon. And again you askhow to fall for thisflawed body. Here is the secret:set down your spyglass,lower your mirror.You are luminous still.
Nothing noise
The white box plugs into my laptop.It uses a USB. Settings includeengine, rainfall, birdsong. Press the right buttons and seashore runsfive hours at a time. A hush so large and shapelessthoughts lose purchase and drown. Ah bliss. No quiet touchesthis nothing noise.
Her hidden fruit
Her pink palms clasp a pomegranate and the flushedflesh basks. Yes, the sleepy warmth of fingers seepsinto ripe belly, soaking ruby pulp. Ah-me-oh-my,to be a thousand seeds stirring in deep jelly. Flesh basks, yes. The warmth of sleepy fingers sweepsa quivering handle, reducing bursting vesiclesbefore me. A thousand seeds stir and weep in jelly,spilt at …