Eventual Horizon

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there is no door, almost nothing, oblique figures

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beneath the columns of false marble

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returned, removed, moonless as an estimate, circle dancing

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like a mineral

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possibly a raised sanctuary

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verse 7 informed my lingering curiosity

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pallor than grass

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was not red (J’ai ta lettre datée “En Mer”)

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minor litanies

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misshapen pearl, problem or promise

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walls & windows, crawling graveyards

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Do not write this version.

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The manuscript has been lying for centuries

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groaned or grunted. passed on

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was it Sappho or Telesilla

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the space between re- and in-

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a long-broken line.

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is it or is it or not either

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of some oblate vessel

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of some ageless stone

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alabaster or avenue

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pressed perhaps, or rather

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This will be counting.

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This will be the blank new page

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(C should have been inserted above)

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compressed & chromatic, semi-tones & minor ninths, broken chords

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polysemous, radiating. If there were

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Two mirrors stare at each other

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terse. (“a dactyl equals a spondee” or “one citadel equals two cities”)

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straight lines blocks boxes binds

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models originally real deathless

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the principal protagonist was never painted

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forgotten or perhaps the opposite

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reliquary jar in the shape of a jar

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symphonies on a dead left hand

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spent horses & hyphens

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taut fibers

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of nows millimetric measure reciprocal blues

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equivocal and faint

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with no organs

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A child’s dream of a mouth—fugue fingers

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vertical to the horizon

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(someone was mumbling about 76 ways of looking at a black word)

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of the no need of the moon to shine in it

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It was not a story to pass on.

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mummified intact neutral tones in turn

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moving towards

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Source: Euclid Shudders (Litmus Press, 2003)