Here is an idea. Don’t think it. Don’t think “here.” It’s just a thought that stops the mind and gives it locus. Hocus Pocus. Apart

The Manager’s Song in a boat in the night with a bird in the wind above my own black waters . . . They take

Someone calls on the hotel phone to say all the forms you filed have failed to say the things the forms are filed for. Someone

“Angioplasm” turns out to be a neologism, meditation on whose possible sense yields: 1. A proto-matter or primal substance, held in or susceptible to being

spasms and works fjords black woods a body’s hiving every wind and every known blank thick body stone a tunnel alive with neuro-wiring humming lights

Putting a hand through the wall. Walking through walls. Approaching the resistant thing and absorbing the resistance of it into oneself until the whole wall

1) The elixirs of immortality confuse even the gods. Who’ll scoop it up in a skull and stash it somewhere? How much do you have

Stroke (9/16-21/2001. St. Francis Hospital Poughkeepsie, NY, Rhinecliff, NY) black ink fantastic tangle of minatory tubes subject to pressures of mind— tensions and distensions of

Leahy Article

Canto How can I live   before this inquiry flushed through the body resolves itself in light without remainder and all detail flicker betwixt an essence