Ron Silliman Poems

The flower sermon:
critique is like a swoon
but with a step increase,
...

Hard dreams. The moment at which you recognize that your own death lies
in wait somewhere within your body. A lone ship defines the horizon. The
rain is not safe to drink.
...

A guide to the sky under full nondisclosure.

Dawn in the bare birch trees, the sun, swollen, throbs over the horizon. Hotel
buffet doodah. Two dogs dancing, sniffing one another's genitalia.
...

Canyons, paths
dug thru the snow
Tunnels
the walls as high as
...

Proto-mallie: the flaneur.
'The older I get the more
floors I discover
at Macys.' Little red
...