W. B. Keckler

I am titillated by vacuity

"I wash the human out
of an image so I may begin"

The square root of a beam of light

Viruses think more clearly
than art in this century
but still we erect such monuments

We mock the camouflage even as we use it

Stairwells in dreams
are really a myelinated nerve
orienting falling

Language is indifferent to content

A lover also is a garment

You don't like to think of it that way
as stations on a rail line


one of two poems by W. B. Keckler >>