steve dalachinsky

tone  the

    touch of

 the  fingers

   to the

      forehead


collide


the bounce

   before  the

balance

        before the

ridge

       in the slope

of the eye

    stitched here without

     a  neuron   the

       tail end of moron

marooned before this world

    began  —  begot before

the tyrant storm —

i’ll come to see you

father soon with my

black pants & black shoes

& black socks

    black hearted me

                               i'll come before the hill is

                            wet  before quiver

                           wields its shard &

                         wept i'll balance here

                         in this result  of gaze

                       &hop

                              before

                       the harness

               pulls

                       before the valley &

                            the field converse



              let fly & bow this

              humdrum stare

              reverse

              & narrowly

    escape

           the veiling

                     hour —



go

    embrace the sea & sorrow

you go

        & squander night’s pink roses

on some bizarre tip

of an afterlife



        go & dream the dreamer’s dream

        & wake to all this collar



go & mingle with the garden

touch the children

squeeze rocks from roses



                  be tinted & painted

                with circles & charms

                      vanish DEEP into

                        the 6’s & the

                  carvings



go

    & pull

        the endings   from

                  your   palm


water creatures
     with joe mcphee


kissing even the sweat

lest we forget

we are come from

water creatures

still asiding ans

le terre —         it’s about   gain &

loss             the way calligraphy relays a

        message         displays

repeats

            a hooping jump

a stone skipping along the surface

                                                    I    a flesh   & stone    & cloth



          it is like getting   squeezing

                         lacing the lining dry

     cleansing     laundering

                    altering the hairline

               the bark of the chicken hawk

               the limitless returns

               fresh-tailed     buzzers

               water creatures

          it is

                    licking         leaners     gleaners

chewing     swallowing —      even the sand that pastes our lips   shut!



what planet is this?

how do we reference ourselves?

where is this point of no return?

pared down fragments.....

                    empty sphere?

     unloading..



                     clear world

                     blue world

                     brilliant decoy





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