Jesse Glass


Gone Trip & Tremble


Past is hour the half, ah
anon past be all ‘twill
cloud laboratory of entrails the into

air turn to body now
drops into changed be soul
so not look that sometimes grew oh, ah.

Fall his regard is gone, that sometimes never saw,
cities at a broken year of time—

Cubes into cut
against the egg run
near oval luminous
so pay a dog possessed.



STRANDED

moth (child’s splay
hands wide)—
nightflower eyes staring
into emptiness

(quanta/ sift/ heat
10/ o’clock/ gutter)

antennae
sag from
riot-helmet head

Wings
(tans, ox-bloods, muddled at the curve
pooled in whorls, lozenges of chestnut
sutured:::golden threads:::)—

flail dust at once
clawed/ tufted feet

to rise
among park pines/

d,a,r,k,l,y
a,c,t,i,v,e

beneath a wing
glimpse
Wolf Wasp
clutch moth’s gilled belly applying

KEY TO THE KINGDOM
Kingdom-Come

King Nothing Comes. Wings
cool into petals of a flower.
A dog barks.




Jesse Glass: The book After Heraclitus—a collection of translations of Heraclitus’ fragments, plus a meditation on Fossil Graffiti, including a fossil inscribed with a Heraclitus fragment to meditate upon—will soon be available from zimZalla.
 
 
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