Sunday, April 08, 2012

What little resemblance this would have to Amy's wedding,

for Amy Dennis and Andy Cook,

I've lost my way on
more than one occasion.
-- Keith Waldrop, Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy


A sublime, frame. Premeditates. Sibilance, and. Displaced into entirely.

Meditations, into fact. From a bone-dry tree. Haphazard, through the earth. Overwhelmed, a doubtless pleasure. Plant-wrapped chairs, bouquets of pavement, walk. Hope springs eternal, Welsh. Thin, barracuda rage.

Applause of light. Atlantic, wanders. Coastlines, wither. A window, thinking about itself. Does anyone. To bed, with a ring. Step backwards, dance. Reflexive, of. This. A certain golden band. The blondest wish. She eyes, we carpool. Squandered water, a square. Perfectly, different. Escape, of true complexity.

Torn apart, by crinoline. Fisherman's light, the family. Enjoy, variety. Confetti, tinkers. Children, beckon. A simple thing, distorted. Conversations blossom. Show of hands.

We don't know how an apartment works. The food was glorious, again.


What darting glance, a crease. Complies, a flower. From the yard. I wish for people, standing. Redwood. Slipped, into the burly ground. The English countryside, a patch of planets. Formidable, a myth. Walls, were closing. The end of the movie.

Burlington. Old music, longing marvels. A silver pin, a bridge. Sublime.

I open heartbeat, read. Domestic space of writing, hearth. A blood-stone. Salt-thick, an orange sweater. Method, burning. Blowing smoke. Undid, tanned hands. A context, isolated. Expert means. Outside, a single, bubbled froth. Champagne, these incandescent bursts. She turns, an atmosphere of pearl.

The wedding afternoon, so slowly. Delicate, to balance. A tonal, underlined. We drive, between.

Heaven's, bronze. Fool's quarters. The shape of, basins. Cadence, trains of thought. They coast, a cool spray. To even me, who'd seen.

Topology, a wonder. Tune slowly to taste.

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