white october

September 25, 2009 12:00AM

suddenly a white sheet and
scars and
blood pours up from this
unbroken bed, being
born in deep deep
white
October.

milk-shroud-cotton screams,
agony and plucked loops,
where but under
wombs do we un-breath our
selves,
softened in murk,
peddled in sands like
glass like
screaming.

don’t know this riddle, don’t
know her face above my
shriveled skin. luminous and
lost, white without light,
being born in lost October,
being born in brambles and
wet grass.

somewhere there is that
sandstorm and i lay planted
thin and full of gristle and grit and
song-dust gruel and
what will be left of the riddle but
un-born love.