Slip

As long as we’ve got a word 

For it, we can kill it

So revel in the unspeakable 

Moment.  Lift your face, face

Him, otherwise hum

Is it better to be certain 

But wrong than uncertain 

But right?  Is it better to kill 

With discretion or without?  

The divisive occidental

Gives us a simple choice, stringing 

Negatives.  Either it is wrong.  Or it is 

Not wrong.  But can choice, a reduction 

Exclusion, really be 

the way to new knowledge?

Is there, with Ockam, room for 3?  Or

Is this a lapse?  A bridge

Stepping out on breath

OK, if I just step a little 

Lighter, until the apparition

Evaporates underfoot

I don’t want to be as thankless 

As trees.  Never so rooted in

The accidental story

As Cadmus is, or was.  But a partition

Rough touch, vulgar tongue

Teeth for sewing

That strange, if honest to god, casual 

Encounter, too meek for the reaping

A render out of solid state.  Bombs and contest

This being bread and butter

Here, the presence of a leaky dreamer

A look across the fridge

And the ruddy lauder’s sonant sigh

Are against the edge of headroom

Against the flush of faces

Such that après-day is put so far off

That snooze is already steady metronome

A rhythmic season of the arm, by the time

We enter sleep