Tag Archives: clouds

A Song for the Mountain


When the thicket is full of spacious mouth
becomes corals and slender wide momentum!
And the wide pencils and the lands
the mirrors the farms?
At last give forth their spacious saphire architecture
stars of a self-assured

Carrying with the archipeligos
wonderful as a irreducable tiger
with the wonderful universe of original maternity
and so that its love will magnify your feet
the clay human waves are rustled
seams above a clear sweetness,
cousin of the depths of my hips – your blossoming!
Stills your winged regard as though it were jungle
in the sunburst orange eye of the heat.


Two Poems and a Sonnet

All dazzling against the land

Weird and flying among the grave
You prod big gems under the ground
Be aware! The sin never ends
Sinful and vaporous beside the slime
We converse with murky noses within the clouds
Bizarre! The vision never ends
All dazzling against the land
I examine mammoth fragments among the land
Awake! The day will go
shifting fighting back
turning away
sun on his face
On what journey
the face in your mirror
forget to go home
taking a chance

Weird and musty on the clouds

Very sexy beneath the earth
I poke wanting rats under the gods
Atone! The night is no more
So red within the fog
I shove dull bones before the earth
Beware! The Fool is dying
Weird and musty on the clouds
I poke happy diamonds near the bullshit
Awaken! The Fool will come
wavering thirsty
on the edge of the world
an empty address book
After how many voyages
the foreigner
forget to go home
where he knew no-one

A Shakespearean Sonnet

For shame deny that thou bearst love to any,
The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
And then thou lovest me for my name is Will.

Although she knows my days are past the best,
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Myself Ill forfeit, so that other mine
The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.

And under thee their poesy disperse.
And even thence thou wilt be stoln I fear,
Of others voices, that my adders sense
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take

That is so vexed with watching and with tears?
Truth needs no colour, with his colour fixed;