Jim Leftwich


Thursday

we’re what’s left over from perfection—
The universe is an OLD mistake
----Allen Ginsberg, Aether (1960)
same thing the mushroom said and
showed some 17 years ago
we fire with deathconscious
mull flangers void created karma
mystery cut tale of the destroyed feels
"i am not naked nearly enough"
changing clothes in the living room
late last night the line was in my mind
"i am not naked nearly enough" maybe 
i've been reading too much Ginsberg 
of late or maybe i should have read 
more of him 20 and 40 years ago
the universe is what much strange

stranger than room alley serious
     forest peaks half-noise
  eyes at shade mottled bowl
          arc-night antenna electric
under monster magic
               moon tomorrow
     consciousness
fields
       a wave
          of endless
     disturbance of repeated
               chimes

histo anno
     half o
  res nov
          resume anima and i
text of static hundred living
               to storie from

     people pillow
they enough
       to get to pacific strait
          find aeolian alcove acorn
     light of our planetary fire
               in this more night than yourself
how cosm the want

     peak nor wash
  on the toes sonic justice
          magic wants to put shoes
on the vulnerable eyes
               the lark stays saying
     bring the thirst
       little secret coyote
          the pointed hand
     holds the head
               the pointing hand
     folds the bread
  the finger
          pointing at the moon

the moons holds a glass
               of water as they have 
     argued for ever and a year

       the stark seeds seep and
               the big clams bray
     the star seeds sleep
          and the pig clamps play

the land around the toe is 
different around the tooth

     ocean smooth
  image leap
          caught longer water
the frog so the worm
               upon ancient families
     the feathers
       therein a song
               made of wind
sorrow sitting as myself
     inside each mystery
  when they start to climb
          steady as leaves in heaven
groans and groan
               thigh imagine
     framed probability
              language of the night
the universe doesn't care
what we think about
fragments
     this is the theme and
          the hem of them
zen sounds as who is
               darker than the known 
and grounded like a toe

     work fictions shuffles
  psilocybin the whole
          long ghost and earth
on horseback in
               Japan on the water
     bed the railroad tracks
              the ants eating the
     incense poster
          paprika crackers
asparagus bottled
               garlic a can of lamp
     falcon coconut poems
          by Joanne Kyger the
  oozing miniature
          perfume mustard
              onions rips and
     chomps the dates

     do the angular gulfs arrange
  had the boots
          out-leapt their juice
              you would know

     oblong soap
and litmus diamond
          emotions

their embroidered cactus stories

               reststop
     alfalfa
          wastewater

  enduring
          the way
     shale
strength of being
          thinks for itself
     things go through their roads
by way of the thoughts
          they lose
             the universe is clear
     about where
         its earlier limits have been
                    eternity
        now
          centuries
   motion
signals

  the tree crawls they coat they
          diameter once island is
     island
this is an arbitrary tarmac for
          students and their
anchovy invited banish
     object on the nose had
             water alphabet the bananas
     adapted
         during a bunch of purposes
   and then
later
  where they flee
          afterwards
     the mind plots what
it's going to eat to broaden
          itself by a couple of
     notices
to eat the mind by adapting
             like seaweed
   with its mouth wide-open
         or a seesaw
     like a modal rocking chair oscillator
          Miles Davis "so what"
     bobbing on the fresh water
unaware that it is Thursday


10.12.2017

Jim Leftwich: Post-American Haiku

 
 
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