1.
Down the stairs
your old friends
but no this is a memory
the house has no chairs yet
an empty sieve
what glory drips through
the cat’s leeward paces
things move themselves
or is it measure
scratch their noiseless claws
in an empty house.
2.
Whose house am I haunting
haunt of the world a stain
on the light. So close to the trees
and their strange dances
light feet in the air
all the weight of heaven bouncing on them.
Let an old man have his reveries
why are my children always scientists
the last drop of real water I’ve watched
for all these years
dangling still as death
never touch that water
the coachman doesn’t know
and that is his wisdom
he shares
with the gloomy red lights
of that hidden district
carrying it to the next Atlas.
3.
Poor Beethoven
home to that chord progression we could never forget
of deftly lifting the flower and throwing it in the air
that’s a calm that only comes to killer’s eyes
away
let’s think no more of it
toss from the fingertips
into the open hands of the air
the more desperate I get
the harder I throw
but the fingers stay
there’s no way
but in
the music pulls you
arm firm around waist
like pleading angels
I am your gut
just listen for once to what you say
green moths bouncing down the polished
silver mirror
the brush of her hand against the smooth cotton
making the same sound as your thoughts.
4.
Move faster than your feet
history as drama
the men in their long tails
hoop dresses
a dance of the gestalt
monkeys on the veranda
of the theosophical society
ladies no one sees
their serious focused eyes
look out of no one
at no one
moonlight through the attic porthole
burning through the document.
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