Moreau
a succulent universe
tasting of mirrors
like the steam on long windows in a season of rains
a traveller down
and jellied in time
put the mirror to the gland and this is him
fruit of spiders
paper bag bandaged
milk from asps in a skeleton cupped
we meet at the milk of the cup
pickling like reptiles
breaking like globes
and then the slow sink in
a universe in suspension
veiwed through dark glass
the thick breathing of a womb
up on the walls like paint
the river outside
children are falling
he picks the bones from the carcass night
bones too fine for ears
bobbets to build strange birds from words
things which fade when near
so space winks soft inside the cell
membrane mornings and memory wells
drench the anchor
douse the house in drowning dusk
all submerge in a gray light
breathing ancient reptiles
the organs fit like children in a cupboard
words are billboards on a headlit highway
this tea is for him
learning about birds
at night we will follow the river
and something large will come
open the head up like a night
a flicker of bone and then all is still
come eat the drowning man
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