ODE TO FALMOUTH



a thoroughfare

that is in light then limestone

fallen, falan, Fuarè follow out to

Mashpee Commons

rowing a rowboat on Buzzard’s Bay

your heart, then over to Bassets

nests, perches, ivy unseen

get into sunrise sunlight

a full nude cast in sand

inimitable



backwards then to Hugh on screen porch

making and unmaking newspaper trident

staves in his hand, the light soft & arcane

his bodice cascading in cottontail canvas



sheets stretched overhead

or, the tandem bicycle

afternoon to

your Nashoba, you in attic under rough wool

Bleeker on the window

to morning

to the moon,as he should

as the body leans

desires and the rush

then, of filling your body with your body

in world

after lights of day into

dirts of night



we sat on rocks and old soot

to make the fire

running into Falmouth

underscore of the mile

the Whistlestop

trains we cannot even count in sleep

or, the lighthouse

northeast out to

pigshead bay or, the—swooped in music

Delius it had been

now in Appalachia the gossamer sits on women naturally


\\\\\ SONG ENDS HERE


careening then in morning is only this arm

out there the pig-fox slinks into day

empty cans on the sill

these tartans clanless deliverances of color

we shining in the woodfire light

pours and fills and leans

articulation of how it were were it a body

of being of light you fall away

better in the sense of having full skins as it comes

always reserved

catching the eye in a height



what sunrise pull Mashpee to the room

lines come to hang

your stayposts be

emergent

through into morning rays

what symbols you hold

your hand stretch against itself

everything away from sun

pulling into everything

repose lineation of only to pour

unleavened int he grass

this truncated soft thought

only mask I wear as I plunder into dawn

catching sawdust as it fly

from your work