The Desert of Want
is tautology hugging itself, itself;
not the mammal shadow-plasma
nor the machines of insect song
ringing in the thermal pools
of dawn beneath it.
The Surfaces of WantMobius ribbon indulgent
beyond a snake eating itself.The regularity of its meaning
in each dawn chorus entering you,a depthless discomfort of indifference
glittering in the trees.Thus, the way you trace the under-
The Ongs of Want
cells of your skin looking for an in.
blossom-gong of hellstrip
The Evolution of Want
sunflowering the gold that gold
finches’ blossom-song
flutter-feasts into plenty
is gill-twist turned in liquid dark
of time’s hunger to jawbone’sbreath-hinged lifting
The Cicada-Song of Want
of chunk-flesh into the light.
Or how dog days ground to dust
The stillness of the treesAs it happens from a porch (perch);
Eyelevel with the eye of dustBeyond the glass of tea, the flatness
Of thought, the endless mold of sky.
