Attempt to Write an Alba (Only Poet To Hand Being Charles Wright)
from a blast of spite and mind your choke spooned self leaves the sidle and whine of
brakes seal it all in a downspout end of rain wisteria coiled and rivulet against a barn held
as part of a set scene i choke you choke
words no sooner uttered I bent sheeted with restive roll of neck throw light into a fact
too slowly so here and wait badly by design with a turning shoulder sheeted the silencita
is mine last dumb octave to do how I wish
squatting on layers of hard clay where oil canisters clot the streambed there’s no stave of
wires above no no anything what I want is a great machine clack charging over rock over
land so like you and I our processional stamp our fleet of arrival
but you’ve not a scratch you’ve augured backwards or elsewhere no matter execute execute
a turn and shut those new eyes hear the day it goes on comes on its clabber of names rising
joining sad day of candid ash and truancy bare as the back of your hand
