I think of you
and Frank Ohara
which was his
but has been mine
and I think is yours
as you are
death and fog
have been heavy
if any of us
has been able to see
far past the near
I doubt it
certainly not me If I could be your anchovy
filled as I am in a second
with ambition I would
for a taste of you
in bed much
Monday, October 26, 2015
Friday, October 23, 2015
In the beginning
The first man stood in the heavens.
On the bones of his ancestors
angels hurled mountains of cheese
A giant leap
The rind of the moon makes pungent stock.
The necklace of the moon wins suitors.
The gown of the moon frustrates fathers.
The howl of the moon is the wild call.
The moon sees the one I love.
There's a rabbit in it, and a man, and a spider.
the celestial choir
and the whirling dust and the planetary punctuation,
has been loved,
will be loved
in the disparation.
Posted by gil johnson at 7:21 PM
Thursday, October 22, 2015
No I No I(.)Am not(.)these words
not am Am not(.)dying.
dying and Am (not) dying. these words dying.
these words dying these words.
are always hers these words are (always)
as without As (always) without her. (with, as without) her, these words are.
her these words
and cells these words are cells. are these words cells? prisons (or) blood. prisons (for blood)
does not sum
the whole of
to come No I / am not / to come /
(fall of a sparrow)
"I am not dying.
These words are cells.
Winter does not sum the whole of silence."
Posted by gil johnson at 3:48 PM