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By series: Bridge St  In Yr Ear  Ruthless Grip

Three Poems

A CLOUD OF GRAMMAR

divides the world
asleep
in our shape

its for-nothing
water
for a voice

 

 *

THE EVER-PRESENT DANGER OF PERISHING WOULD NOT PERMIT OF A LANGUAGE RESTRICTED TO GESTURE

"I can't
breathe" can ever
only be written

or false
and not
and never enough.

Wrest the suspect
from time's exact
collapse

and little hands
of concrete crush
in prayer.

 

 *

A DREAM-NOTHINGNESS IS SPREAD OVER THE ACTUAL NOTHINGNESS

Overheard
in our void--

a cold
good color.

And we're already
over.

So
already over

in fact
in dream

I nearly
hear you.