Intelligent Life Forms

They landed late last night
aliens of no reputation
unexplained, uninterested in us
they crouched reverently
bent their knees like pilgrims
on shorelines worldwide
and whispered
softly, humbly
to seashells

One nodded curtly to me
as he boarded their departing ship
"Thank you for your time."

Slow Movements

The clouds

look like words

and their movement

mirrors

the tectonic grind

of Antarctica

or Moby Dick-

something

frosted glass

polar leviathan


O


Saw this

and dared

to talk about it

did the clouds

look like words

or did they

look like script

some time

you will see shapes

spectral colors

or the Great Whale

gliding across the sky

impassive

prophetic

as all men who ever

spoke with God


O


Once I saw

malformed planets

too thin to stand on

Hocket 1

I picture myself in an open field

on a night streaked with far-off civilization

I picture grasses stirred by wind


on a night blurred by summer

electing to let my surroundings speak alone

on a night of heightened remorse


electing a place for each stalk

moved like hands were passing atop them

electing to stay silent myself


moved by new wavelengths darker

the wind blows individuals they draw closer together

moved by the presence of absence


the wind blows through grasses

and space hums between each individual spear

the wind blows summer grass


and space enough to lie down

manifests in the far-flung rivulets of civilization

and space enough to be seen


manifests in the meadow gathering light

I picture myself saluting the distance grey-eyed a self

manifests in night time's wild blooming

History of Objects (or Red Delicious)

I feel my family
in the history
of objects
in each one
a discernible
pulse and
electric potential
I begin to see
the facial expression
in the orange bowl
the apple sticker
stuck
to the table leg
now it is sealed
and the day
future people
dig that table
from the bowels
of the earth
they'll call it
"Red Delicious"

THEORY OF ALCHEMY

us right two beings of disparate substance

in the swelter of our communion

smelt an auspicious liquid silver

sweat trails like electric currents appear

frozen on the soft edge of your

eye socket still moving downward

within the shapes of air

made between our hands

will emanate matter

brought into being

by orchestral stirrings

of sub-atomic strings

transformation of air

summer humidity holds

the day in suspension

even hum

dragonfly

evening

summer

now

gold