Poet Introduction Often I find myself focusing upon time, memory, art, creativity, personal identity, and nature. Wanting to balance evocative, stimulating language with reflection. Blame my incoherence on being raised with 90s music.
In closing an eyelid by every means available, what dream have we summed up, within a furious night? Is there any remedy, a conjuring, for all the years of caprichos? Besides the wash of reason with protective measures: a blend of water and maalox will cleanse our sting, briefly, only, briefly: since none will forget a supernatural recycle of history, amplified, so long as those dead, remain upon waking.
If there is such a mirror which can scry me by certainty, describe it † † cousin: as long as I've looked into it, an opaque revision does not bring † any more clarity, but less, with time. Allow me to † divine, by materials that † are stirring: there I may † obtain a quarry, in ripple displays of current, or † † gentle impulsions, if you † prefer: an ebb, where disruption is necessary.
these phrases, and language, keep some part of me. Why † do they meander and overflow, † † through odd nonrhythms I can- † not find the sense, nor a capacity, † within myself for their control? † A word is an object, vanishing while it traces cross the surface, holding reserves of definition; † it stands clear before me, like † a stenciled, morning shadow plays, at being the minutehand † throughout my day. The veiled,† and embraced, memories of tense: such as was, and will be.