Arcadia

Why not begin with the man and the snow
confetting the lawn, and how light glows;

why not begin with footfalls or the bumble
bee with wing too thin for its hairy body

not heavy, but slick with honeysuckle splutter;
why not begin with the sun that swells,

unswells, in a rainbow’s wet transparency;
or the fog we see as thinner,

more transparent – unraveling till
it appears dappled in blue in good light;

why not begin with the boughs that droop
fraught with fruit; or the seven magnolias

in the yard, breathing out. Why not end
with what coats the shallow body

beside the magnolias; or the beaver - that
slammer - slapping furry tail on water.

On a Holiday that Keeps Giving Fragments

(New fragments - as in, even, part of sentences - of poetry. Written away, in the spur of the moment; in a mind fully fresh, open to wonderments, although the scenes' beauty may still not be captured perfectly - in that the mind was fresh, open to take it in, understanding, but not in a state to write.)

If wood was air: if wood was penetrable: he / I would stare
through it.

[If wood was air: I would stare through it; if wood was penetrable: reach
for it / cut it with my body as with air, as I moved into it.]

to go out / row out in broad daylight

we coat the bees in broad
daylight (in honey, sugar -all melted
and pearl-like, sticky substance)

we coat the bees in broad daylight (in
honey, sugar - pearl-like), the sugar
melted - sticky drapery over / stickily draped
over bees.

full of thick fish
boots

Scraggy tail, turns limp - turns brown
with its water-cargoed / watery fur

Scraggy tail, turns limp - copper-brown
to black

with water-cargoed / watery fur

Scraggy tail, falls limp; falls
down, how the water sticks

like glue to the fur.


[What the Hambus
to Marvolo would look like:
as death, in the shape of his own dead body.]

The wall's bricks glow (gold),
and the water with it: how it
take / steal the wall's shape.

Do the doorbells echo to slow the silent hour?

Arcadia

(Undeveloped lines, part of lines, ideas, part of ideas, etc., while on holiday. Nothing connected to something else.)

Arcadia

The fog as we see it: less thick;
more transparent, unraveling

until, at last, it becomes blue-
dappled in good light. Though

the sun swells, unswells, it laces
what it touches: a rainbow's

transpancery in gold.


Why not begin with the man and the snow, it falls confetting the lawn, and how the light glows (on flakes in the sky: a lighthouse whose light is falling upon mothy-slanted, half-splintered fully-mastless ships)?

Why not begin with a man?

The man like any bird
with clipped wings, trapped
from better weather.

Sky: the sky, such / that
bringer / harbringer / echoer of wind.

The bee, as if sometime in swarming the magnolias
had too small wings for its cargo not heavy: slick,
with honeysuckle spit. / (not heavy turned-flesh:
slick with honeysuckle spit.)

A vase the colour of terra cotta slants--atop the pipe white and oddly fading; in places, paint flashed off like skin, coat its coaled ground.

A boat, in lake Arcadia, its vechicle
sound that of savannah drums.

If, at distance, the boughs hang
heavy with fruit, how can we discern it
from pear or apple tree?

Seven magnolias, breathing out. Unfolding
petals, orchid-red, bough-like.

-

What coats the shallow
body / bone ? - moths? bees on honey?

(honey on flesh)

If the body is a grave,
the grave is empty, is it also coated -
by what

(bouquets? confetti? bird shit?)

The sun behind the cloud: (glows)
luminous like glossed pearls.

The sun behind seven clouds: (glows)
luminous like glossed pearls.

Seven clouds like veils in front of
the sun: how it glows luminous like glossed-over pearls.

Seven clouds: seven veils for the sun
glowing luminous like glossed-over pearls.

A tree the mind
that is still; has stopped shaking.

To carry any specific number
of apples. To let another apple

fall: the sound of Icarus
falling, all wax all wing toward the ground.

A bee, as (if) for the blue
lake, as if buzzing into it, all

round all brown
and all yellow - see that splash?

How does the flesh taste? - if flesh is all
I can taste? What coats shallow body?
Moths, bees on honey (honey on flesh)?

How we see the fog: less fluid and more
transparent, unraveling until, at last,
it becomes blue-dappled blue-speckled

in good light: see these holes? - the sun
laces its edges gold.


-


arcadia and other ethereal planes

Why not begin with the man and
the snow that falls confetting
the lawn, and how the light glows? –
why not begin with footfalls; or
the bee as when still swarming

the magnolias had too small wings
for its cargo not heavy but slick
with honeysuckle spit; or the sun
that swells, unswells – in rainbow
transparency – lacing what it touches:

the fog we see as: less thick; more
transparent – unraveling until, at
last, it seems dappled in blue in good
light. If, at distance, the boughs
hang heavy with fruit, how can we

discern it from these pear or apple
trees? Seven magnolias, breathing
out. Unfolding petals, orchid-red,
bough-like. What coats the shallow
body? - moths? bees on honey?

(honey on flesh). If the body is
a grave, the grave is empty, is it
also coated - by what (bouquets?
confetti? bird shit?). Here, take
my hand. Snow falls onto graves;

a man under it, still as plants,
as if hoping to be snowed down
in good light blue-dappled, speckled.