Night: a slab
The Moor: comes close, a hex, an agony
Night: a slab

 

Autumn: the native wife with scimitar scathes
an agile, opened heart

Night's real snake, its arc-hot star
& God between two crosses scratches
arcane letters in–my vault & view, revolt & vowel

 

The wide night spits a world out
This wide night kicks, it spits

 

The night is a cursed world:

 

everything's itinerant, even its colossal mount

of Night

The centaur began
   when man did
the yellow centaur–
   its ton floats undersea
of uncertain origin

 

A little riot, isolate
   endless in its canter
between two homes
   brings lurid forest
into balance

 

Condemned to certain derision
   (my MO, my memoir)
the centaur
   spirals its recycled life through sky

 

with a jaguar bound
and balanced in its arms
   (that sphere of pain)

fearing its unruly word

Adieu bridge like a horizon
with stairs and a scar and an arch
with infamous paints, red balustrade
Adieu bridge I bang feet on

 

Adieu tall chalet
your mauve torture, violent grays
your bent and sainted Haitian radio
Adieu chalet of the sweet potato

 

Adieu vile sets, the oblique life
that paves black
the squalid grass befits me
Adieu villain city, death of memory