Piss Verses, or Even You
No, I do understand. Circumstances do lead to conclusions.
To the desire for something episcopal.
One can only take so much of this standing around
before someone finally slams the door.
Take magenta, for example. A photo of a field of ice plants,
just a filler in a medical journal, between the piss jars and porphyrins.
No one would ever let such naked retina into the Paul Revere Room without a member’s pass. Viz., the suspicious rod and cone motif
on the generalissimi’s new wallpaper, those secret wet petals
we once glimpsed, remember, plastered to the Doctor’s watch glass.
We had always regarded the blind as blessed with singular undistraction,
but perhaps we were wrong. Here, Rose Bengal spears the eye
with her precise, medicinal vibration. So you jack up the reverb
until you are filled with so many cadenzas, both homely
and exotic, that you must take out avalanche insurance !
Turn to Loosestrife in your commonplace book, please.
Everything, everything, do you understand me,
is one big flower that is never done unfolding.
1996 or 1997
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