When Pussywillows Last in the Catyard Bloomed (rtf) Read online

repeating in Gregorian spasms of dyed wing

  the only in head felt tidal tom thing without.

  As all blind thoughts mole that dirt-dreaming jumble,

  feels the father rock of the world, torn untimely from its sun,

  through sole unhealed tunnel, running synapses of sea and dendrite delta

  down this made man mud. Where bums the blue Pacific

  mumble ever the unborn, unconceived floats of dream

  that flow artesian the shafts of ivory, oxidized to petals

  that flame the nervous gray stalactites’ roof.

  Then down

  that ever evanescent way and back flare films of rockslid dust

  to the volcano that thumps heartbeat only for the ear,

  the mountain that backbones solely to the eye,

  and the ocean that mothers but to the last sucking mouth,

  as the name that is my own calls out itself

  to be, sonning after ear its storming father fanned,—

  “Lie down and come,” is nailed onto me. “Spread out thy arms

  like syllables, and reascend the land.”

  This first printing of “When Pussywillows Last in the Catyard Bloomed” is limited to an edition of 1000 copies of which 200 are cloth-bound, signed by the author and numbered 1-200.

  The remaining 800 copies are numbered 201-1000.

  This is copy 465