Enough Sky by KP McCarthy Not getting enough sky now thatit’s pindrop dusk and Venusflirts with a slabby moon Spalls of silver flush livid –I cannot flank desireand all this reaching for what must be, this needingto cultivate the verge,always it must be as lewd as...
An artist spoke casually of my warrior jaw and embedded the phrase, neat as a spearhead…
Dusky dome spilling lowdermilk, wind–textured laughter wheeling
Ripe mosaic halos and poised arms of light…
Will weathers the long approach in his dad’s old hat – a prospector wading through restless grasses and bristlecones whirling in time…
Decide now, before the next breath, that there
is nothing to lose – do
it again with the next…
You can’t resign with
that fountain pen lying there prettily translucent, forest green, because I am that pen – I am every pen – I am waiting…
Old dogs capering in snow – knowing grins and stiff bows, tick-tock tails, bleached snouts steaming, hoarse whuffs,
the glint of cataracts…
Nonet (yes, yes)
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder eye of behold
the poet
in the ear of the player ear of play
the sage…
The son starts and cries at the crested bronze, then knows the warrior and loves…