When they're not like you, the wind for felt reason
shouldn't riffle your hair let down; you can bury your
head in an old Course book and parse their tongues.
In one Section they're viewed as children of the Earth, or
the Rainbow ̶ something like that; frightful en masse.
Nest high you have the right to remain uncommon.
Elsewhere they conform to Articles of the Penal
Code over which you poured, shuddering off wolf
notices cross unfenced library tables. You can't go
utterly that way wrong : skin tight! just power
down the hood, call
up cruise beaks sky larking; sun block face bare
behind ̶ the devil stark, guest room dark . but be
advised : not all for sessions rise. If not one some
thing gets you in the end; slips past touch points
plunge fear lips guard as basins steam . consume.
Time! gather your lines, graceful as silk sheet
covers of honour pulled up over nipples quick as
it's done; lay ways you've spurned.
And walk ~ Copy 10 . DM :
no pigeon hackle brushes out in the street. Long
halo serving dogs! list scratch . bear down in heat.
– W.W.
PROVENÇAL
With a nun of a moon flirts a firefly
drawn like iron into the waves
of the magnet-veils the virgin sheds
as she withdraws naked up the sky's stairs
with slow but unassailable hauteur.
(from "Thief With Leaf" by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 