Light spray over a daisy chain of days.
Many wives, brought on rocking boats,
Dissolve in one loved damsel.

Everything turns into tape. It (check one)
        puts the multiples on a loop     (1)
        reduces all numbers to one       (2)

The green world thinks the sun
Into one flower, then outraces
It to the sea in sunken pipes.

It is a loose sleeve whose hair wraps the
Bedouin on his pony and then slings him
Into the wind, always to be a monad

The rat who came last night scratching
By the door—did you appreciate
He might be wanting to converse?

You approach me carrying a book
The instructions you read carry me back beyond birth
To childhood and a courtyard bouncing a ball

Eric Dolphy can’t wake up:
the green light’s still burning
by the gate. Pine cones

The margin of mountain grass moved from our feet
down
       the apron of

an erasure of “The Letter” by “Currer Bell”

an erasure of Edwin Arlington Robinson’s “The Old King’s New Jester”