Saturday, January 29, 2005

from Five Drives


None-below or all-above:
the roots of fire
founder on a thicker star.

There’s no music for this,
a thief in weeping, a mold in the poles.

Is it an election or a siege?
Where freedom, read Jesus.

Day, multiply, in power!
Day they bear the image / to be a slave
To the other side
We are not this author

A pox on your hex! If murder’s
beauty’s guarantor. . .


Exegesis’s bulletholes in the cuneiform.
Have I been good? Has a bad gold been here?
If you can fetishize an ambulance,
if your limbs extend
deep into those darkest jellies. . .

Up ahead, the road’s closed.
They’re routing us through Waterloo.

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