too soon to crawl
through the pollen counting mainstream
from orthodoz to the life-line\'s lost trapeze.
each stretch of land more desert than repose.
complete control,
this circumstance, this melancholy mood
at home among the lilacs
the devil\'s shades of summer in a still.
there is little yet to look at
now the holly squints and stutters like a lord.
no sudden light of consequence
shall overturn the gravel and the spit.
through the elephants eyes
that crumble as they fall,
how tall must be the long arc of a tongue
that dares to call our spade a mandolin?
there are a milion pregnant leaves beneath my chin
each one a shade of charcoal
fanning flames on Dartmoor
as the sea comes crashing in.
anxiety and doubt.
now swimming with the maggots
diamond-white with their fishing rods
dull, yet dutiful.
it is still too soon to crawl.
this circumstance, this melancholy mood
at home among the lilacs
in the corner of a shoe;