You’re always driving right where I am

or just where I’m going. But when will it show

in the flesh?  We add, obstinately, to language

more of the same, pages of perfumed grass.

Dreams of injury, warm honey

burning in your throat, drift us through

the play of night, plan of night, desperation

I’m most happy in. Everything beautiful is far

but that doesn’t mean evanesce on me.

Impatiens, meet touch-me-not.

Be as close as possible. As close

as desire, no more, otherwise pass

each other toward some opposite

distance. Subscribe our interruption

of indefinite night. Postpone reticence.

We more than wounded know nothing

of flowers but the ripe pod

scatters its seed regardless.

Pictures or Music                                 

It’s work for lost eyes to assert fine

moral tone while skimming cream

off of daylight. Dear Cloudy:

Dear Rainy: Dear Mist On My

Windowpane: Even blind water

finds equilibrium. Tunes poured

through a funnel forget themselves

in a function: that love, the indivisible,

set his face toward all.

Paper White Narcissus                             

Take what you want and then

losers weepers. Reality moves

among us—“.” Painless

tastes something like this only

we believe broken bones knit,

don’t we? After flowering: May discard

or keep cool and place outside

in spring as soon as soil can be worked

or the following fall.
 

Paper White Narcissus (II)                      

Care: Very challenging. Attractive

while in bloom, then usually discarded.
Difficult to cultivate year round and

rebloom inside. But our idea

is better, to accumulate the scatter

we fumbled understanding

so it sounds visible intact. Your art

is taking a breath. Have you

begun to shiver yet? I have.