Monday, July 5, 2010

as timber in shallow rain



as timber in shallow rain

from furthest things commingle hunger,
hatred, the unbearable resilience
of being. breaking like pheasants
by beaters flushed or a stray ricochet

cock full of vengeance or self, a long slow
bullet & the will to pull it,
would my desires be any different?
the last man to be consumed. you, who

none would have touched I approach as a crowd
not having left with little to offer
ambiguous oracles of our own sought,
instead texts lost in translation.