to WCW (III)-
but here we are
looking at a self
portrait of a dutch
renaissance painter
let the rose petals blow
away in the tornado
of bombs dropping
the bombs are dropping
and we stand
in
the eye . . the pupil
how shall they ask
what needs to be asked?
where will they find the intersection of queen
anne’s lace blowing amongst all
whining
whining over dresden
and over camellia on the bridge
in selma and on fiftythree christ
opher st man
hatten
pull that red winter hat blue down
tight // the bombs
are falling // so are
the walls
and ⁅people⁆ are
dying every
day for the lack
of what
is found
there
no the verses are
full jupiter and
venus it is that
the people have
holes in
their sides
drilled by oil
rigs
it is the bombs
work
we are
hol(e)y
and leaking
calmly filling
the space
with rose scented
lysol airfreshener
pouring it in
orifice
mouths nostril
ear and pupil
the blessed pupil
Italicized lines are taken from the poetry of William Carlos Williams
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an Outlaw discovered covered in the hoods of their executioners to get news from poems people die each day in misery and from the graves grow thorny briars and grimaces // also for the lack of saying
after all that writing I am disappointed you couldn’t work through the mystery of gender as you did the rose and pink locust // the poet revolution of stateside idiom sunny forever before by the woo
