There is cold
In the country of the old.
Heat of life,
Heat of love,
...
What joins wit to weight is matter
In filigreed ionic fields
That seine sensation from the scatter,
Covet it in horny shields
...
I walk the woods and death is in my stride.
Each branch and leaf I brush aside is bruised.
For smaller forms of life I’m genocide.
To move through life is other life abused.
...
I have a little teddy bear.
His name is Hairy Jack.
His eyes are round and bulgy
And slap shut with a clack
...
There is in dreams a magic transformation
So that fear appears as watching doors,
A clutching claw a hair behind your frantic run,
Frozen feet that push through viscous air,
...
Copernicus
Created fuss
In honing the complex
Into simplicities.
...
Little Paul,
No one at all
In anybody’s book,
Had one skill
...
One stares most carefully
At no one...
At the spaces between the faces
Where the gaze must graze
...
My pinky wavers on the “a”
About to leap to “q” or “z”
Quite unsure about the way.
Now how in Hell do I make “c”?
...