on the supper sixtieth to last, the conversation was not yet so focused

i saw fifty
nine angels dancing the fifty
three-step on forty
seven pins as i just turned thirty
nine days i asked are there more than thirty
dimensions curled around the twenty
bill-sized space if so ifso i ask (for the twelfth
damn time of you) how many of me, three
or one

nativity

thatch integrity: break all as one, pull yields random set, bend stresses far layer laid smooth on near

batter my heart, space
of three breaths' bids

squirrel composition: one leaf, one scored strip of bark, three leaves, sympathetic veins, held up for inspection

this christmas you
whom i do not know

quality of time: a solo tick picked up in conduit of creek

pulling in to White Sulphur Springs

so long since
i sat
awaiting vast
space between
vast
stars the day
i imagine hope
will arrive i
came to
sleep

translation 4

The barn the horse the man saw ran past collapsed.

-

God the question asks
does program, or initial
hurl, or puppeteers, or
snores in the prompt box.
Does God underground. Yank
own levers. Look back at
us aboard a beam
of light. The barn doors
contracting space
time close

nostalgia

high stretched 
starward hands 

this air feted
so i, await

ing space, 
vast stars             i will 

come sleep
at years 

to constellations 
one star to 

with turn-
ed kid-time

coats 
let each
 
ring                   be 
the awakened

familiarization of nearby space

we're revolving clockwise; counter
 our gravity this vessel careening

we're authoring science; fiction
 writing off the merely conceivable

we cycle; recall
the cold spin 
wait; await

pocket

plastic lungs held by the sheath separates
quick from the red motion of the
joint the change in the capacity of
space between the man and the woman
movement only occurring in absence

prolegomena to a report to the joint armed services and foreign affairs committees

breathing space
sectarian political
compromises
divide
make a touchdown!
GAO
a few days ago
individual
great strides
fight n die
what's the likelihood
dead horse
puts it
of the day
impinges

science fiction

slice of pie, sleep
& star chart. the percentage a
circumference portfolio,
the empty space a
person was meant to
fit. bed, coffin,
hibernation chamber,
he was used to breathing
numbers, oxygenated
fluids, some days his
body functioning like
a syringe, penance
and propriety.

panegimblic

slip-surface of solitary continent
tectonics apace of glass flow, time
calibrated to a gravity river,
or rivulets side trips see space
minus us is our confluence

observance

for a while i dreamed of contests
of flux between our liquid and solid forms.
more or less races. i say: they say dreams
are not in color. you say: in my dreams things
go on without attributes, are suspended
placelessly in space and i fly among
them. the flying being the dream. it also
is at times a swim or a crawl. oh
please rarefied ocean-trenched earth do
not loose us when we wake. i am tired
of every thing colored and having nothing
to try for. i lay still heavy in the bed
for a while saying those purple sorts of
things then get up.