Friday, June 1, 2012

Craving Postuma's Resolute

suffice it to say that when one looks closely,
and it is the morning, and in the breeze of its coolest parts,
every bit as tangibly pleasurable as one might think,
and the wind in its figure, moving the intangible
flowing volume of the air, and every single leaf
of every single tree you see is moving, and in that
tingle, when some single tree, or when the presence
of all the leaves or trees are sensed as a suprabodily
bolis, together with me, then flashing, which frames the
discontinuity as continuous, in the way a moving leaf is still
a leaf, but communicates further, and there is not one part
of the tree which is not moving, for as I gaze I wander,
down uneven steps and onto angled grounds.

and blue surrounds
where blackness sets its
simple pupil
so touched by the gangly

nappy meteor network
the felt-line shelf

dear cream of bird