Session 1: Starched Afternoons and Sedative Evenings
the nothing landscape
has lost its everything
composed as frost mirage
ice cracked in visible
compliance the struggle
of texture over glide
swirl or less
the missing and the wanting
the nothing landscape
has lost its everything
composed as frost mirage
ice cracked in visible
compliance the struggle
of texture over glide
swirl or less
the missing and the wanting
mouth a lacuna
searches for cold
numb thicked tectonic
throat song for the viscous
immovable mess
la loo sway
decembers requiem or
dish of the
day is angled
light
fragility
landslide
bowling for picket fences
before the film
the screen empty
and silent music
i have eaten the blank
berries and decided
to die
the white noise
of highway traffic over
ice will kill you
the blinds open and
close and close
there is no
code here the moon
no more than a
delicate exile building
to its beige crescendo
unravels the
catgut composition
into quarter notes
you look for order in
clouds to mask
the sheen of particle and part
there is no revol
ution no matter how many
times the sun
you are a milk
blind actor a
crocodile immovable tear
nothing but gibberish
in the southbound contra dreams
of a knight clad in matte
armour on his way
to a drowned
chiaro scuro lily
shroud and wax holy
mass at graveside in the
fog with the snow
falling through the noon sun
the saddest
is noon
in winter starpulsed
as countpoint minus symphony
what have i lost
locked in a fairytale
a snow white let down
castles ruined by melting
remember the once
upon a time
thorns for your broken mythologies
ice chunked sepulchres
excavated from barren rivers
what is clean, antipoetic, emberwhite
a ritual of mourners in cotton
a chant into the well of light
footfall of slow
measures over limestone
an open gate
in the dirge
the precise and mechanical
movement of bones
focus is relentless sharp, indiscriminate
a brace of arrowed fears indent
skin unpierced
a pale falcon
in flight, its ghost
listless in the drifts
air bubbles shift to ice
the slosh of absence
muted white heat
of hypothermic
fingers posed in stiff
come hither a skeleton
reliquary of tibia and cuticles
a swans bent
neck brittle and eternal how many
times have you told me
this ghost story
the crystal bright scream
jangling all my starched
afternoons and blurred
sedative evenings smear
the dream over bedsheets
the silhouette of a
bell rings a distant
havoc above the winding
ice the spine of a footbridge
searches for cold
numb thicked tectonic
throat song for the viscous
immovable mess
la loo sway
decembers requiem or
dish of the
day is angled
light
fragility
landslide
bowling for picket fences
before the film
the screen empty
and silent music
i have eaten the blank
berries and decided
to die
the white noise
of highway traffic over
ice will kill you
the blinds open and
close and close
there is no
code here the moon
no more than a
delicate exile building
to its beige crescendo
unravels the
catgut composition
into quarter notes
you look for order in
clouds to mask
the sheen of particle and part
there is no revol
ution no matter how many
times the sun
you are a milk
blind actor a
crocodile immovable tear
nothing but gibberish
in the southbound contra dreams
of a knight clad in matte
armour on his way
to a drowned
chiaro scuro lily
shroud and wax holy
mass at graveside in the
fog with the snow
falling through the noon sun
the saddest
is noon
in winter starpulsed
as countpoint minus symphony
what have i lost
locked in a fairytale
a snow white let down
castles ruined by melting
remember the once
upon a time
thorns for your broken mythologies
ice chunked sepulchres
excavated from barren rivers
what is clean, antipoetic, emberwhite
a ritual of mourners in cotton
a chant into the well of light
footfall of slow
measures over limestone
an open gate
in the dirge
the precise and mechanical
movement of bones
focus is relentless sharp, indiscriminate
a brace of arrowed fears indent
skin unpierced
a pale falcon
in flight, its ghost
listless in the drifts
air bubbles shift to ice
the slosh of absence
muted white heat
of hypothermic
fingers posed in stiff
come hither a skeleton
reliquary of tibia and cuticles
a swans bent
neck brittle and eternal how many
times have you told me
this ghost story
the crystal bright scream
jangling all my starched
afternoons and blurred
sedative evenings smear
the dream over bedsheets
the silhouette of a
bell rings a distant
havoc above the winding
ice the spine of a footbridge
silent lure to ordinary
to walk out of worlds
on the horizon near flattened
peripheries just out of
reach the cold
bleached metal rail
unfreezes refugee drips
falling into cracked
moments
each fissure collapses
into catacombs
depth gauged in petrified c
anticles a choir sings
its lint white aria of halleluhs
the chalked gowns
luminadipped in buckets of lime
spectrum into solstice
powder into borders
into the sleet rimed
boreal forest of lace
a glacial melody
of wind over ice
the sea down jellied
perspect
picked clean
soft clouded nucleus
of an eye rolling under
the spray of brine
and anemone frozen
waves breaking overhead
brace yourself
the whiteout begins
first in the mountains
then in the plains
accumulated
legends
of vikings and kings
weathered in the long
trapped nights
tales of apparitions feather touch
on eyelids closed against the squall
wings where arms should be
a bright halo and sparkling tears
viewed in the granular pattern
to walk out of worlds
on the horizon near flattened
peripheries just out of
reach the cold
bleached metal rail
unfreezes refugee drips
falling into cracked
moments
each fissure collapses
into catacombs
depth gauged in petrified c
anticles a choir sings
its lint white aria of halleluhs
the chalked gowns
luminadipped in buckets of lime
spectrum into solstice
powder into borders
into the sleet rimed
boreal forest of lace
a glacial melody
of wind over ice
the sea down jellied
perspect
picked clean
soft clouded nucleus
of an eye rolling under
the spray of brine
and anemone frozen
waves breaking overhead
brace yourself
the whiteout begins
first in the mountains
then in the plains
accumulated
legends
of vikings and kings
weathered in the long
trapped nights
tales of apparitions feather touch
on eyelids closed against the squall
wings where arms should be
a bright halo and sparkling tears
viewed in the granular pattern
