8.09.2005

from the long poem somewhere...

 9

we never step outside the portals



Now if a six
turn out to be nine
I don't mind
...
Let's play pick-up-sticks,


kids – bones.
Because it's really
early-late, see. And
I'm no yesman


or gnomon –
I'm a soul man.
(Not really certain,
understand...)


Here's the black
bare cueball.
Duck. Rabbit.
Here's the trick:


square two thumbers
like so, behind a curtain
and then wave your ten
clay beachcombers...


gradually... See?
It's a live butterfly!
It's a handmade moth!
Will you marry me?


I'm only ten.
I'm eleven.
I'm Hen –
I'm your cousin!


3.28.99

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