Genealogy

to be perched high in wet clouds with
they behind, themselves the vessel

and I:

"Land!"

My Own Dear Terror

I sat alone on a park bench
(very alert quite alone I was)
holding a shotgun,

waiting. for

The menace, my own
dear terror there
beyond the horizon

you see and

In a second, any second,
there it would be:

swimming languid circles
quite without
appetite or purpose

and you see

In a second, any second,
here it would come:

instantly, absently, with a
wild mouth and the world's
malice on its tongue.

In this way, this is how
it would come,

and for me.