The Snare (I & II)

The Snare (I)


Please shut up. When I emerge wild,

the golden lake over my shoulder,

I will take into account the promise

you entangled me in.



Similar to the negative torso

holding up the tree roots

I ask you to be gentle.


Everything will wobble

otherwise               When you’re not here


something crawls into the hole

and doesn’t think.


Patience is expendable.

Go deeper with me.

Break any final symmetry.



I think this body is an instrument.


I grow like a graft.

It might be useless

to try to place

what stucco home

sprung me fully formed.

How often I thought

of my network of parts.

And I thought of yours.


Wheeling we get married

and I use my new mechanisms.



The Snare (II)


How do we know


how to send the codes from one end

to the other of the last sunken terminal?


If I were to lie down and go to pieces

I could imitate the echo in the marl.




A lord’s hand made me whole again,

my corpse the fledgling map of the new world.


A lord smiles like a turning wing

and hovers over noon churning.


All the parts were plain to see, the parish,

the barnyards, veins and ligatures.


They cover me with hay

until I am gone.


These locusts buried in the riverbank. They hatch 

and fly further. They cluster with force,

they eddy and course into my yawn.