Saturday, October 21, 2006

3 Revisions

Next Breath Best Breath
--for Arthur Russell

Your dreams come near to you
For the child distinguishes
Between inside outside clouds

Arguments like music we are here
Things can't help happening where
There was something was something

Proceeding to parse your brow
Your bow given to Bach the lyric
Must return nearer than thought.


To Edvard Munch

Scratch out all but her literal whisper
The kerchief blood to paint blood paint
To erase all face her hands all details

What life corrupts to erase the literal paint
Scratch out or cover the details evoke the literal
Death her then then process reverses.


Eruv I.

"Make peace not love."
--Amos Oz

The spirit of this converted private is not an inside abstract
It is the key of keys for mutual dwelling a mobility of ritual to discover
In potentia is to discover again ourselves lifting what must be
Transportable as string a version of commons shifting the signs
Grew out of graffiti heart to bright beams making a bubble
An effect of needing an inside outside outside to be a call to floating
Contracts towards mobile peace the place of this converted public.

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