Brandon Downing

                      CXXIX.

He was only another dustcloud of the sultry sameness
                       darkness
                        rose out
     speeding
          after a struggle of hours

The night passed, the morning came
In the afternoon
          That one day was the sun of his life

The books, pamphlets, trinkets,
hair, thin
plays of the union
at the curtain

like a lighted brand
upon surrounding images,
like a dried channel of tears
of herself
such sprawling skeletons
bath at the vexation

texts of
the unconscious colour
O God !

Short black
ghost of
eyes

garden of no
breathing structure

HE was down on the plains
and he stood there like vividness
sparkling over her sex
to keep the world alive

But she was inanimate
the room was black and silent
tyrannized with the mask of
both

And
                 the brain
          pulses the ghosts
with emptiness
while the snow wishes its wish

and
the young
kick the water to kill,

It is not done by miracle

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