Poem from ‘we plié, unto this last’

title page of we plie

Title page of  ‘we plié, unto this last’

what-life, wilderness. what dawn, its smallness and our, our line
strung on with it. what flotsam, flock tours my kindness, walk.
without laughter I remove your head, place it on the body you
love. a way west, a way to the filigree of pleasure and shadow.

migration did this to me. an inside, a life of ridiculous nature.
the trembling bigness in a thing buries hinted surroundings,
powders blue ocean with a kiss. its chair, there, in looped loop,
the cumulus what — fear or flame or frame listen-ing.

without it, not just friend but family, little dots of dots recur,
sparse scent of equal, of, to. this hills in us a dusting, wind-
blown — that is if we could remember birds on strings, what
huddles seated children and their ultimately severable lives.

it mentions you, the to and of of it. the broken line’s forgiven
your tense, its recurrent knot. through it we hurtle across self
and self. re-play now and then explains we, makes me duplicate
— its aperture-inducing past and future.

this can’t be the way it is. can’t be a node on cheek and neck.
forced through straw, the tiny it resurfaces the pollen of you.
where we plays still, mind between kissings slips. now, ground’s
clear. now begins the courtship of blank justice.

Selected from we plié, a manuscript to be published by Roof Books in October 2015. we plié is a book-length series — five sets of twenty poems. This poem is taken from the final set titled unto this last, and draws upon sensibilities built up or enfolded in earlier sections.

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