Angie’s Face

Resting curve-perched,
backslid,
land-measuring ideas
of concavity, threshold—

fisherman’s flap-cap looped below
tight flesh, sunborn,
haloing reusable a neighborhood alias:

Our prime ordinal, or (you must)
the indivisble monad, Leibniz-like, a frac-
turing-auto-dialect culled to a
littering aesthetician’s kettle
mad imagination,

settled down atop a lesser infinity—her
behemoth non-economy’s
tea-coated environs: a reified,
plasticized,
detrita, stained.

My Love

My love, a patient
love,
not obsessive.

My love admiring, breathing,
quickening, not to be
dismissed,
out
of sight.

My love sensing, having
admitted to complexity
lying naked
to natural,
and
some unnatural connect.

My love alive, only
for
a listening one,
still,
quite sensitive.

My love just,
my love first,
my
love
comprehended.

One, Two, Eight

An empty birthday present thought:
the adult and the children’s
swimming pool area
side.

Fronted rust, browning white,
acorns startling a foot room,
simplest zippers
low to tie.

Commencing glass
and
free tree-flow above
elastic rasping cornstalk blue,

yellow budding awls dipped
over,
downing the breezed pupils’
cross-howl of day.

Warped alone
this threading line,
this grass-wedded pall:
thus,
then, weathered.

Thereby relief in…Oh

the squandering,
alabaster, the posturing,
blanketed, impostor, SCHIELE!

Egon figurine
rib set and shoulder.

Mid-century’s
tedious countenance, deflected.

A sight amid afternoon’s
dappling energy,

mosquito; thricing earliest
juicing thirst

bruised in drag—frothing, sturdy, locus;

oozing red and blessed, the signal
signs in time:

a tinkering, a hole-clot riddling.

Our inspector
readier for our secrets to be
made open
through pubis wares.

Fenceless ghost, lied phantasms,
death-
bed dendrites, the night left.

Hit; light upon

something used:
to it all.