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from fire to sea

a nous through the verse, any universe
a slip of form, overweight, a stick
on a
rear window
rusting under water, under
oxygens
nitrogens, and
clever 
jinn 

feet fleeting prints, prints
seeping away
falling away
a muddling rat's nest
falling away
falling away to stay

the most of nothing, in a sense
sequestered in small motel rooms
below and then above
the Dostoyevsky stair
following tedious 
crises
tending rarely to end
turning commercials around
town
in striated sky

why could one never figure
  what one wants for
    one's self
in small cars

in traffic
listening to the radio
pushing out kiddie porn
listening to scattered theory of
mind reading and bosses
working into thoughts
turning workers into freaks
into poets singing 
conceits

of motherlessness, loose halves. battles and
pretty trees
live shows, scripts.  sermons in
steps
(one must step)

midnight. a bent and blunted night

right before sleep beside a
famous river
catching the plangent plucking of
nerves
one man as anyone
despair, despair of
travelling well
the background, the mise en scene, sweeping by.  the
schemata swinging wide
missing the big, bloody side
of the
red barn

  " oh, the thing corners my mind, pulls at my eyes,
snapping its fingers to my puttering
drive.
And I stare at my feet, pulled and puttering
to the spread of the sky
to a 
macerated
line."

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