I just want to find a way to increase
the reach of the damn thing. The poem dies
when it hits a static page, the poor deceased
verse is through. But in my memory
I have another song, in my mind's eye
is art without an artifact. The fuel
I find for song in changing moons, I lie
beneath the heavens quietly. The cruel
spheres that whirl above me are the ornaments
of an inscrutable god. My poems spring
into the world and toss their awful content
everywhere. Who can remember asking
for a spoken verse? I want to be
in love with you though at an apogee.
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