The Desert of Want
is tautology hugging itself, itself;
not the mammal shadow-plasma
nor the machines of insect song
ringing in the thermal pools
of dawn beneath it.
The Surfaces of Want
Mobius ribbon indulgent
beyond a snake eating itself.
The regularity of its meaning
in each dawn chorus entering you,
a depthless discomfort of indifference
glittering in the trees.
Thus, the way you trace the under-
cells of your skin looking for an in.
The Ongs of Want
blossom-gong of hellstrip
sunflowering the gold that gold
flutter-feasts into plenty
The Evolution of Want
is gill-twist turned in liquid dark
of time’s hunger to jawbone’s
of chunk-flesh into the light.
The Cicada-Song of Want
Or how dog days ground to dust
The stillness of the trees
As it happens from a porch (perch);
Eyelevel with the eye of dust
Beyond the glass of tea, the flatness
Of thought, the endless mold of sky.