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Matter 8



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Matter 8

May

presence of you there
the space and time scarce
that to you I sighted
a passing speckle, I ask to
a flourishing glare hallow

some setting that has been in mind
seeming in conciliation and tentative pieces
but then implicit care, I have for in a pair
a lament of one's touch and near sensuality
fervently imbued, imperatively of my soul to carry

by my tongue of a chance
waves of ambience, by your mouth
to hear a sense of closeness in your breathe
by your grace and if you... may
and the name on that calendar that night
outside the window, looking upon the highway
New Years coming up I think is a good sigh,
to find something to show, to send,
should I ask and let anticipation be dead
bright dream around the post office
face close-up

had a dream about the rain
found the fence on top missing parts

nails
outside
scattered under
on the floor
by your
shattered window
newt week
mild winds
a train into
Springwood
I want to
be there
by Ten
wooden
floors
gypsy carpet
stairs
old rail
painted white

in the room you play a band you said you like
and gluey paintings and others and magazines cut
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between two beds no one sleeps
and I fins pencils and papers of, your drawings

away I
day green
five
may we

May if
you away
leaf eucalyptus
ground

may if...

if myself given throughout, culled from the parts solely of
my whole being in my own thoughts in that, you'd reciprocate something in that degree of yourself to be known to me,
as I had for all I sought to see of you

my acumen false, for it be only hindsight to clarify, one of the two fish, the aculeus scorpion, and as it is so, but not any more assertive but in one of a twin, by chance close to I, that I know is certainly suited to second guess – all too well

and that happened and I plaintively feel of it

in thought of printing a regard seething
the lines written, a loss culminating
to one spoken to I of an aurae wade through
transcending to a guided spirit with me

it's adagio violins, or in a dream the flutes and bassoons that soar, for which I think of you as a poet embodied whom you are as I have not seen, but I write from stomach awaken by some spirit that must have crossed yours, whatever colour it may be moving

in charcoal trees with drooping deep dark greens
I see myself, and vaguely the vestige, that from yourself in a hollow dwindling longing I retrieve

may if
may if
written

I met her in May as I thought of my life may,
abound the city to waiting may,
to of her way and my whatever

if I break her, I may
a letter to court behind my pain
as may have came diminishing

I met her in May as I thought of my life may,
collapse, I faded to her, she passed




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