Twentynine Palms
December rasp, dust in stream,
lust of color illumined. The dealer
smears the stars & splits
a stone decked & assembled
by yesterday’s air. Tumbleweeds
gambol sunward, and, in the dusk,
by their shadows, weave the sky
into the sand—
Over Anatolia
The mountain ranges
serrated by ice
dry on the skyline
and a gossamer of fog
facades the beveled sea below…
Ahead of me, all heaven
collapses into the child who wriggles
in his seat, sneezes, & drapes the plane’s
window in drool. Airplane hum
of hours and miles, for that moment,
I am Spinoza, grinding an iris
on the edge of everything— .
Law is the Veins
Poetry’s pith, law is the veins
of money, & hurricanes of the dead,
defenseless hover over us–
Birth of the Drone–
Silicone trills
guiding light
insect twist & shimmer
silicone trills
blindfold time
centrifugal
non-expropriations
silicone trills
crime night–
