Sunday, October 14, 2012

Killing Frost



(for Morton Feldman)


On the ground,
come.

Come, thief, think
of one.

Fly away, fly
away, away. 

Fly.

Moon and Mars and stars, flung
three degree. 

Stung...

Pare
small air.

Catacomb of cloud
and calculation, cornflower 
constellation,
Corinthian caffeine
rose, abnegation
by a nose. 

Daughter of Priam, no chimera led,
promptly fled. 

Brooder, spoiled: 
utterly opaque 
the heartless
stake.

Murder on homeward
path, not far, not 
far: think of 
one 
lot.

Fly away, fly away.

Fly away. Shawl.