Spicer Poetics Poem by Michael Farrell

Love, Jack; love, jack
The mask that masks too much
The spring resounds, announces
Accidental
pressing on mind
Not philosophy, feeling
Not the song, the circle
Jousting? No, and no reproof
I will never be standing by a bar
a boy's head in my mouth like a brick
The photographic mysteries
the darkroom in the secular world
Christ as the Devil, a pageant
the north
the lack of north
When we are anxiety on a pin
Rushing our words to the chirograph
god of war
radio termites
They fall on the village of San Francisco
leaving the goat to die in the snow
hohoho was an expression of those days
def honey
You couldn't cough your guts up
yr not so refined
alabama
Fruit by the side of the fox
Aloha Medici was his name
but he went by Jamie le Grande
apology
apology in stone
The heathen demon and the other demons
That I give you 2 wishes doesn't mean
I'm not sore
but come
To the crater
and throw off your garter
The austere flamingo
Did you think you would never wake up? Your pillow
is asleep, your bed is asleep. All the books
are snoring and dreaming of each other. They're
surprised. William Carlos Williams writes a letter:
Dear Louis … Yrs Bill. In the cabinet of minor crows
one is shuffling, ballooning to majority. Videos swoon
like ants to coffee; hemispheres twirl like hats
The peasants have bodies that belie their suits
Trucks run through wooden fences that are never
repaired
the chair; the cherry
tilda swinton climbs an oak tree with a grapevine, a beehive
The doctor said the level of oxygen in the love was normal