Gods of simplicity 2

                                                                                do
   Before the detonation

              (which outside time is not before)

The bomb is like a note of music

                                 or like the string

        Unstruck

What is it to be

Complicit in time

                                          la

Only contemplating immo tion

From the crest of the wave

There are faces in the sea

Not the faces of the living

Looking up from before the pleistocene

                     at our contemplation

The light between us and them

Is particulate 

One

  One before two

And the deadly flash 

And black rain

We see             one another

      Through time

Make music Of the order 

which makes their faces ours

Which defines their features

Burns away all possibility

Sets one note 

One key

C become

Death 

Every bomb we have imagined

Sings in the air

Every child of our generations

Finds harmony

Time moves the song

And the light

And the fire

Gods of simplicity 1

That still thing
Orange juice in a glass
Even at a moment
We diffuse it
Into three
Past present future
We are the particle participant
The wanting wave
We wait
Even when the train has arrived
Ohhhhh One
Is many
               Run
That glass has broken
In this poem
Is volcanic sand
Is stardust at the end of all cold expansion
But between lines
What is it
Barely Orange
Cooling or heating
Invisibly
Suspension
Indifferent to every pattern
Even as I am
Between two thoughts

I took a step and thought
   "Not bad"
I liked to revisit them
    Smiling
                            Unsure
I'd bring them to the park
      To see who noticed
Did I ever love you
If that one day
You wouldn't take my calls
                       I've since had each again
Of our conversations
      Many times
They play out
                          The same
But my opinions
                                Decay
At any rate
                     If you saw that one step
You'd know me
                                                                  As I do
I'd take it again

On the day your sister died
And in the park with the swans
And in bed after
                               Miserable
                     I'd have that step to count on

And not press you
                Unless  you liked that step

But how can one be sure
I'll take it again
Again
Here:
Is it ours
                To 2 too tw
Remember
         Won't you

Again

Old notes for a sonnet

have stared and studied love

Squinted and marveled and made all my focus the little elements and large motions 

Of 

But in my memory*

All eyes

All feet

All kisses

Burn one flame*

Melt in the flame of my memory to one

Grotesque amorphous body barely seen

A waxing monster in the shadows 

Thighs

Where lips are looked for 

Or a laugh

When the back of the neck is sought 

No hair

Until hair is conjured

No hand to hold

But a hundred hands together

When hand is spoken

Despite my memory

I long for you

Ever surprising comfort

Refuge from the haunting

Of your *own shade

idolatry/renewal

Thou
         you
Shall
         will
                    have make keep name become create hold
no other                    
gods
but


because                             all the time
                   there were         no more
                   then every
                     day new gods
                                    men
                    announcing themselves
                                                 
and enough
         was enough

 tyrants!

our gods are our own
       we  are
    ourselves

we all were slave-kings
we all have killed

     we shout                            to god
                                          from        god
                                              each other

         no                               make gods of me!
                                                      yes
        no

the Last Surviving Graffiti of Alexandria

Dear most of you. I hate you. Shut the fuck up. I resent you. You don't deserve success.
You can already survive. Beyond that you're just shoring up insecurity. Fucking make some room. But no. You won't. Your tiny success is why we all fail. I'll eat you. Before I die. In a perfect world. You'll burn. In this world I'd be caught too. I'll burn too. I burn now, just thinking it.
  I leave you alone.
I love you though. Some of you sometimes. And want to kiss your hair. Because I like your little moan. That time you appreciate a moment. The rest of the room let it go. But I shuddered. And wondered if it's the same moan as in private pleasures. Which I'd like to offer. But then. I'll have too much. Of you. Of life. I'll hold it. I'll need to burn. You'll burn me. Or need me. And I'll want to offer. So I'll grasp. For us. And they'll burn me.
     I leave you alone.
I'll sit. And think of you. Think of me. Of them. Fucking and burning. Hate and love. I'll wait. Until the moment after wanting. Until the other fire.
Have you heard me moan? Enjoying a moment? Did you hate me then? Or imagine me under you? What fire do you have for me? What fuel? What air? And where is it written?
I am without ink. You without pen. They without me. We print our own words. No one reads them.
I'll burn my own library. Twice. And bury it. The smoke will carry me.
There is no sense in it.
My books were not much.

"Unsung" (layout incorrect on mobile page version)

                   "I am not loved"

Each night 

                  "I am not loved"

repeated

                  "I am not loved"

 in sol                                      ace    at              Sol, Ace, I, 1, beginnings

                                                       itude

                 "I am not loved"

 burning                                                                      light in dark 

                "I am not loved"

 but not                                   announced                       sound 

                   "I am not loved"

 lest it be 

                " I am not loved"

 denied

                                             Those things which are silent

                                                  are most true

                                                     

                                              In the null set

                                                 They shall be uncalculated

                                             

                                               And 

                                                   Universal