how to tell the difference /
between rain and the rain /
one is many and /
one is many one /
a rare errand to count them all after falling /
still spotting where each drop burst /
to know where every thing is lost /
one by one accumulating /
is how to receive rain /
and the unexpected knocks on all doors
almost like eyes /
thumbholes in fresh dough /
baked onto the skull /
all is light rejecting the surface /
no more common sight /
rename particles allowed to enter the retina /
a sun in a marshy ditch thrums /
thin, tremolo strings illuminate bands of earth /
each a different thread /
of colours, shades, textures /
shaping a unique scape around
to want means the end of this world /
the colour, the sound, the scent /
tucked up under the wing /
and dropped in the night sea /
where dark water is up and down /
filling the sky and weighting the land /
the head always arched up /
looking for waves of light /
and the blue where we walk
marry this handful of water /
dripping daily from the eavestrough /
plotting its stain on the morning ceiling /
the sky is the oldest splatter /
spreading beyond any simple gesture to contain /
place a hand along the table’s edge /
fleshy dam stopping up the flow /
from being lost along another named street
some new combustible /
some thing beyond fire’s lick /
some body born in the char /
pulling a new planet forward /
some many seizing light as focused /
as a blade’s edge sharpened endlessly /
pointed into an infinite /
some figure, a living multiple /
shaping above the city’s line /
breathing out unrecognizable names /
of the constellations to come
ever the last, old engine block abandoned in a canola field /
your charred grey hulk has a pale yellow glow /
from the rapeseed bending over the hollow cylinders /
wind is a whistle through your cracks and rods /
finally cooling after a life of controlled explosions /
the petrol resource has run dry for you /
your bores now overflowing with slick rain
another new limb today /
two blocks long with eleven thousand index fingers /
each with an irradiated fingernail /
capable of melting a 3/4 inch hole in cinder blocks /
and carving uneven shapes in floor to ceiling glass /
the cut-outs falling inward splintering /
puncturing in constellation patterns on the soles of soft feet /
is verse always aboil? /
a root fire burning without smoke or sign /
in vacant lots of refurbing neighbourhoods
time is too small to believe in /
said the extra spilling coffee /
on the 35 mm camera /
film exposed too soon /
before the image makes its case /
for worldly residence
how many fingers can fit in an eye? /
publish the results in the company newsletter /
dismantle the stairs from the top floor /
there are escalators in the common dream maintained /
by invisible staff /
I as 1 repeated /
until the weight is too much for /
the roof patio to bear /
then the sun will come in /
as a natural explosion /
of unlimited resource /
carving caskets in each mailbox
the mayor wears a hat 50 feet high /
it can see into the future to predict /
population explosions and market crashes /
infant baby rashes and confidence erosions /
the hat sleeps on a flat bed truck /
recharging neighbourhood batteries with mild nightmares /
and upgrading cafeteria menus for more efficient neuron firing /
the citizen’s petitioned for the hat to have a designated birthday /
but the north pole had something to say /
and flipped the planet upside down /
no one should measure pride by a hat