From the Gradual

The continent in its creep (its
low gradual gear)
comes over across the sea.
The long aged water.
From the peak of the roof
I watch the waves slip in
their troughs and tumble
eachother.
It all sounds like smoke - this
gimmick of earth.

Then the great Canadians crook
under the clouds
hemmed with their noise. This is
their season, and they know it.
They will tell you that
they come in on
the cold wind that comes in.

But the arrogance of their shadows
goes unnoticed on the deaf
gears that creep

this moment from hence to
forth, hence to forth.

Queen of S Words

Another Ondine talks to a fish
Beneath the Queen's chair
And whispers
Japanese Bath Houses

My Nature is Good

My name is Extra Gravy
And I'm an introvert.
This is my nature.
I am not broken.
I do not need to change.
I do not need to be more
like you.

The Animals The Animals

The hog-nose snake among the
Grape vines when
The dogs find him and
All his tricks

Puffed up like a cobra
In its hood
Then
Rolled over in mock eternity
While the claws and the
Nails of the she-dogs
Ripped the grass
Around him

Until their interest slipped
Back to the
Squirrels among the branches
The opossum among the garbage
The sleep behind their eyes

And he slipped away with
His scales between the arbors
Of this crop, next
Year's crop,

The places where futures come