Thursday, September 25, 2014

dawbing hooves on sea aged nigh aum

crone crone
the food wool badger's red lost lowing done
for if emblem in a ditch
would slay the herald of omphalos
old women would grow together like a hand king
wart if triangle loose all ocean no wave
but planes unite all geometry in the point
to know is to be buried
up to the neck in lines

shore wheel
and shawl weel
gather their hands in the towns
nous nous what knife will spread ye
will close the wound with no strife
for mind is no strife but to mind

mind or life all cameo
the warty surface of the cauldron
whose ache in beauty and pain descend surfused
to arisen glory

hollow the hallowed anger
its grief more delicate than ground heather
oil makes a picture in water
and the long draught's view purveil

weed green stones from the knight face fallen helmet
mushroom mushroom
crone in bath to weld the sun its eye blind merry

cold deep waiting
a string put out to distant vacuum
held taut to lie
held taught to memor
and dye

such stains reveal
the mountain course of emblem
rubble discerns through a scrim
of doll the whole winking peace
and ped

even children remember men
whose heads were those of horses
and babies tattooed with clover
standing ceramic
around the pen

what oceans dredge up again
is presence
and older than the drum
of suns
which fail

O how the shining masters know
just how to fail
most bright

for the song that flows
from a buried knight
is black and cold
but pure

ther tour

ore that stutters
in the bliss