Bonde

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Cyclops 320


Only luck could imagine your name
To know this is to know the world
Yet the eye is filled with motes
Meanwhile fish swim in gold water
Mixing with the spirits of drowned horses

Once again a blind dog wins his argument
With the lost souls of the week
Demanding to be raised into the new,
The custom of ruin
The lost tribe of nowhere.

Legato Fugazi

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Cyclops 319


Shining tongue the flower is now deathless
A solemn word, golden, stolen from desperate gods
Who are left drunk and blind, trying to trace their steps
Across a bloody nation.

Blinking language the high whores
March toward the night of Europe
Praying in divided languages that remind us of music
The citizen excepts himself from the parade but
Ends up civilized anyway.
He has a telescope that can help him see
The curse of destiny,
He is a born hero who sits silent
Amid the literature of the fallen
The art of anywhere
The music of ghosts.

Look Right Through Me

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Cyclops 318



A wife of dishonor
Tricks the smutty office of repetition
Nothing kind in these strangers, says she.
A queer holy word sets our misfortunes and
Fills our country with hungry dogs whose
Enlarged secrets are brought in by
Pirates and robbers,
Forsaking god, they wish to settle this little matter
Once and for all.

Nothing being sacred, there is
Wisdom in adultery and comfort in lucky want
The devil gives us old feet
With which to tread the waiting country.

Working In the Temple

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Cyclops 317


The daughter of justice eats hair for breakfast
The law becomes a deceased infant and we sing
A scandalous lament for the tribe of unsound rightness
The mind will dismiss such thoughts that swore to keep
A solemn hour

And we of the bar with the name of the rose
shackle the foot yet ponder the king of the street
He is truly well and delivers us to the goddess of the skies
We conjure the air and dare to kiss her, the wife of god
As she is both judge and jury she condemns us to our fate

Still, our deliverance is at hand.

So Many Monsters

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Cyclops 316


Old hardworking luck swindles in kind passage
The test of witness, we are stuck in our peace
Passed, we poor, we luckless
In giving and letting, we go
To cry in the name of some second-hand reason
And yet, when we went to the wall
In malice and without sufficient reason
We found ourselves covered in paper and eyes
Some ancient Moses telling us to drink and take an alias
Our wife bidding us farewell from the dock
Looking out- in trying to unstick us from
Scandalous opinion and in some green fraternity
We walk out to the weeping country

He Fades Away

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Cyclops 315


Up, up cruel citizen
make thousands weep in
other rain
your account of flesh is neither
open nor laughing
its flesh is the statement you make
about the truth of the lunatic
and the troubles of the poor.

The bearded fools of summer
Publish this wrong story of pity
It is the lie of libel it has
No defense it is
The meaning of morning
It is the raining eye of trouble
It is the stuttering madness of old age

It is hat that goes forth unknowing

Maximum Joy

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Cyclops 314


who was there in the face of bountiful water?
And in whose name was the truth sold
Pawned gold bowed and organized in a somewhat garden?
Were there eyes drinking the order of the day?
Where is that island of godless song and law
And when does the bridge to summer suddenly appear?

Hope around singing in this most excellent absence
This fair animal daughter, she what leaves off at profound release,
She becomes a lion at the first drink of beauty
And she knows where to find the rocks
The ones that will take us across the shiny sea.

A Hollow Bone

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Cyclops 313

suddenly during a certain mixup we
were drenched
a lively skill you have, artillery mother
until another god comes along
with a right eye that sees clever victors

everywhere.

The best wind causes a fever
A punishment of rules handing
A finish; a casual defeat despite the caution
Of your clever stupidity.

A lamb in the water.

Als Das Kind Kind War

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Cyclops 312

the violent pockets ask to be rid of all these initials
cutting some and turning others into gold
the most excellent and honored will be terminated
we will take notice of the audience
but light a cool match to the son of the citizen
the traitor will be superb, agile, true.

Prominent notes, the advantage of time while
The odd swatting roar
Insists on being heard
We take its meaning,
An enhanced violent member
Whose proceedings are
The form of an anthem

Its greatest quality is fear.

A Name Writ In Water

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Cyclops 311

Looking most ancient, your eloquent requests
Say yes to throwing the citizen into importance
Somehow the usual part of verse the one that is
Of most importance
Disappears.

Say yes to the best wellknown evergreen
Of the modest, best part of being there.
Say yes to practiced dimension
The most excellent desire of morning
The tradition of applause
The race forcibly expressed
Say yes to the appeal of the tongue

The evening waits to hand down the soil of the nation.

Turn Your Faces Toward the Sea

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Cyclops 307

a curse is the policy of beast of fact
as it comes to agree in what it believes:

the courage of water
the spoken verse of the hole in time
wars of spirit that laughing come to
disclose our leaving

perhaps we show some intricate indication
of our honor when we pay with our own ill
notice?

Confused, we act to serve suggestion
A green dog of system
Infinitely increased in complication
Of the days gone by and roaring

How is it we come by these feelings?
Is it asking for light for a day arising?

Cyclops 308

this league of answers is shooting slaughter
evidence of animals going off in laughter
now feeling human hesitate so gently
the notice of the useful not much in question
anything added is only common
the thought of coming
the house of friendship
the bloom of going
the opposite of order
the medical condition
the cheer warning.

Similar honor is sadly forbidding
Tonight possession on the floor
The bad black ironical
Made lost for sure forthcoming wanted
Produced on a dare,
It could not inspire us to anything more.

Cyclops 310

Lurching tragic hands catholic, drinking seem
To appreciate what overstepped ticket
Calls itself our acquaintance
A shaking vagabond a robbery at a funeral
The confidence of a safe wife
Conducts you in your feelings
But deprives you while rogues
Convey the night with better words

Your true speech,
O Israel, you bitter hope
Walk out with your excuse for a teacup
Come addled, young in prayershawl at closing time
Tell us of your trust
Dictate your reflections to the limits of the wind

Every Day I Look At the World Through My Window

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Cyclops 306 (Second Version)

An ancient public dog
Carefully conceals his achievement
Which is gone through the sweet, blinding moment
When the empty circle drops from his delightful jaw.

The stones recite this missing answer
An opera they’ve never heard
There, nonetheless, below the growling water
Once found it returns to silence
It has nothing to say-it speaks emptiness.

Rendered in red below a bloodshot kindness
There is a harsher love, one that gives itself to the world
With a graceful false name:
Familiar, delightful, famous.

Hollow Road

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Cyclops 305

The manner of the question
Determines the song, can you long dance, sober though?
Where the throat went
The eye can no longer go
But seeing can also be waiting.

The curse of music
And the occasional privilege of feeling
Are brushed away like the
Better skulls of the shuffling and the gallant,
Their footfalls might strike someone as entertainment
In this way the evening talks freely
About the name of the day.

The generous trees seize an old sky.

Cyclops 306

These expert animals
Blind and dropjawed
Dogs who carefully conceal
Their ancient missing points,
Often mistake themselves for horses
Until the moment they are rendered
Into answers.

Unturned they are known
For their opera of grousing
A famous achievement which resembles nothing.
The stones of the living say nothing to the present,
They delight in the liberty of their public name.

Together we speak as someone who turns
An empty eye into verse.

Astonishing Moon

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Cyclops 304

Overcome hearts in rooms of blissful forgetting
Have you seen the monsters of happiness
Who, for the sake of memory take the name of the hero?
This is the part where the excellent eye of the cat
Seizes the song of the present and flings it into the stream of memory.

These heartrending vessels sink in oceans of song
Taking with them the citizens of grief. They are
Permitted in death to join the meanings of bliss until reaching the
Cherished core of our dreadful desire,
This is their vast token of esteem for us, the living.

We are rocked in our wish to become giants.