LXXXIII (Chanterelles)

Black trumpets, whale-colored pamphlets, or shingles, or ears, book-
marks of the netherworld, breakast food of the box turtle.

For a long time, she could not find them, hovering just above them
the way an inanimate lamp will hang blindly above the lucidities
of geometry.

. . . continue reading here.


How quickly they came to their bodies and never that protean instant of
metamorphosis, only one day both were inexplicably large with the downy,

. . . continue readingĀ here.

%d bloggers like this: