[From Anatomy of
Depression]
I’m going to put away what I know
and speak from a place far beyond the confines of memory
if this is a test of verbal capacity
collapse is the only real option
and putting this too against its opposite
the
coin’s surface begins to emerge
flat-faced
reflection embroiders the edged currency
you are what you pay for it seems
you get what you deserve
tell me the story
of the woman who bore sorrow
like an unwanted child
once born, so fiercely protected
so consciously consumed by her love
manifest this desire to connect the inner most passions
and this deep rooted design for destruction
it’s a work of art that ends in lines and shapes
far beyond what you ever thought you knew of such ordinary
sequences
what if the page is
not a field
but a life time
how much white space eaten in the darkest days
held between fingers
as your eyes caress
funny shaped meaning
you applaud best efforts
between silence and blackened facets
give me total descent
the whim to move mountains
the removal of the day’s grayest hours
the note’s uninterrupted climax
the price of admission to a life more lived
and without regret
a means of transportation
today a silented woman hangs in the boughs
this sun light dropping coded speak
as though the ibis cares one bit for such mortal tidbits
in its quest at the marsh’s edge
you had better seek a more inhabitable water
find the swans with their never-ending devotion
or hapless grace
do you believe this
hiding in language is a conscious choice
to never reveal in the
delicious attributes of the metaphor
yes, it’s erotic appeal
is always more than hoped for and indifferent
save me a song in the palace’s deepest trenches
or in a parapet where some lovely snow-white being
lies bleeding, who is it that does not love every tale
of gallantry and hurtful fantasy
share with me your loneliest memory
to tuck into the concave face of the speckled moon
that too disappears and comes back as though the pull
of this earth was barely enough to keep her head above
grief is the ocean and
not the boat
vast and in permanent
motion
a shameful joy lost
witness is one form for the container
capable of holding and keeping
edges clean and
straight
here is where the moment of words matters most
what is said is never taken back truly
in some
moments, the pause beyond filled
with a lifetime of absorbed notions
words that cake on the
walls
here in the house of
loss
the reverberation of sound as it slips into hearing
let us back to the conversation
of slanted light, reconstruction of beauty:
you recall this face
until you don’t
wakening again and again to the naming
bellow and ponderous effect
scared in scarcity
the familiar closeted with what is deadly
a childish fear of darkened places
lady, be easy to approach and delicate
the
person is fatal
the house sits in an ocean
a fire
from the back forward
dusty debridement
in marital tones, here it remains
heart-clutched,
stone-shaped
excision of that bone of contention
I
am afraid a
mournful train wails
precious combination of dine and design
redolence of scented blessings
a small box that contains a world of connections
I can’t keep the lettering that spells compliance
we set down some brief moment of closings
there’s a certain lust in neglect
the make of meaning
if night fell forward on and on
such dreams, the dreamer wakes
it’s a once in a lifetime miss
wait, I hear something
the right formula of verb might make up
for months of silence
I might not really feel remorse
the hummingbird with its guarded existence
such luck to have drawn water from the side of leveling
it’s a monstrosity to wake up again
recognize that you are death’s calling
a private conversation is its own special fiction
it never adds up exactly
make a list for showering down what is
who to call this ripe old day—
baby—do
you come
baby—do
you disappear
these lines are their
own failure
see their vanishing
point eclipsed
by a noise somewhere
between
moaning and meaning
the sound of weather in the trees
through its frequent remissions
a sunken world’s drunken pace
the cloak that the illness wears is that of the
invader
without which another life plays out
against the backdrop of a different landscape
more
successfully achieved
dream of the mouth filled with some gum-like texture
that I can almost extract
to clear the passage
for the escape of some sound
having removed
landmarks
in astronomy
the
angular distance below the horizon or a horizontal plane
a fragment quality, a frailty
having the fragrance of once remembered
there in the heavens or more than dreamed of
the expanse heaved in disproportion for fluted chance
frenzy and intricate
double being: the
rational and the insane
intertwined as the
song’s echo in the dying breeze
this is barely an introduction
for there is no lifetime that can be produced other than as
a lifetime
stories by comparison must be portable and sane
to the
left and right of any margins
places
where the dirty work is done
