we undertake a pollenation of the mind
by monument by the shared
voracity of fashion & moral

no solid nostalgia penetrates this
storm of leaf-life luxurious guesswork
this amplitude untiring & disparate

you want only freely to exist outside
the noise oh small being poet thou
radiant pomegranate consciousness

your struggle is affection for quiet
places like hymns of devastation curling
matriarchal messianic arriving in whispers

loaded flush with the fortunes & deeper
wounds of a life of lives interlaced
bluely communing repentant

frigid with motivation broken glass
is a voice a land of hot quiet milks &
agony fruits of a visceral displacement

some say rage some ennui or vacancy
a dawning age ignoble stained by
splints of rapture (guiltless managerial)

loose words inaugurate a fauna
specific & dying by degrees harvesting
inspirations from fissures in breath

let us speak now untepid of your
survivor's prerogative stripped clean of
letters antinomian seeking the wake

of a candle a voice condensed from
       hallowed spaces the oblique & ageless
       exhaustion of briars drowned in one's

       sunday morning tea

[from Joseph Robertson's An Archaeology of Sense]