G
And then to wake with gardenias
Behind a veil of hair
Stomach aching for tomatoes
And egg salad
To go
With a garden
Variety insouciance
Down Seventh Avenue, vents
Gurgling steam
Stepping into traffic as god would
Do to ogle
These schoolgirls more
Often. I cry
In a burly shaft
Of light, go
Hungry every seven minutes
Or so
Darkness flares in the coil of your seashell
Ears far
From any ocean mouthing
The horizontal sun Eyes
Seesawing
The skyline, I
Leave a footprint dappled
With soot on your roof
Gallop down the stairway
Into an icy wave of stars
Q
I fade from my own ‘life’ like
Parting a lion
From its claw
Given to quixotic forms
By the expiring sense
Of a body, its threads
Of nervous disquiet drawn
Through limb by the head’s
Tacit whim
As if there was a difference
Between lamb & iamb, one
Led, slit, bled
The other
Corralled by force
Of mind, stilled there
In the stagnant queue
Of line
Life so ‘life-like’ & thus
So vastly
Unreal I turn to the quixotic
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