iii
no one could survive in half-moon country
without being disfigured by its beauty
debussy pleases you – you are drawn
to the waves in his music
yesterday walking by the neighbor’ open window,
a piano played (richard) strauss
they lie vertical in air, miles above the ground
to hammer in the white stones
the road to their house is like blood
soft dirt, this time of late summer
there are deep wrinkles
in those mountains near
you play prokofiev inside
as children play tag outside
a morning street – smells lilac & dwarf pine,
looks lavender & burnt lime
she says she works
for the ministry of beauty
∙
iv
beverly lives in vestments & delivers
the persimmon word to cloudy people
jo(ann) is marooned
in the island of los angeles
rose lives beneath her personal mountains
that are beneath the greened sea
colleen wakes
and the valley wakes, too
in an earthbox, jessie keeps her voice
and in an air box, her thoughts & in a firebox, her hearts
karyn’ hair is sweet ropes
binded by the historical rings
(and) now she is gone, anne marie –
who has sailed for maine in a sluggish car
journal .. marta impresses her life in one,
day by day .. in september she drew trees ..
fionna teaches
the art of polishing air
pearl teaches
the art of preserving icons
∙
v
is there no defense against
the theology of spring(?)
fire off along the road but only a few will stop
to see the work of a meso-american god unfold
the fisher king’ coma expires ..
charity returns
the dog next door looks at the world
thru its huge eyes & gathers sorrow
was it 1963 that a too human president
became mythic(?)
the person in that pretty box
only used to be friend larry
jeff .. he still carries the spear
and the shields but the heavenly wars are over
is not is true – when driving
thru the mojave the road turns rubied red(?)
muffled morning – man/motorcycle
muscle mainstreet
now billows poached
with im impossible qualities, sail(eth) west ..
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O U T L I E R 