DOG OF THE LIMBERLOST
(excerpt from THE KANE RICHMOND PROJECT)
With a can of spray-dust
a walk is easily taken
on the leaves of the book laid powerfully parallel
though this book isn't the storehouse of might
you dreamt up in the middle of the storm-tossed night
where tattoos end in particulars evaporating
in a kind of silence that continues on above
chimney pot and shards of roof
on that particular fall.
Seven hedges encircle the man who is dancing
to the tune of an eternal bug-eyed conception
not one of his ancestors knew about
any more than he
the one doing the dancing
amid others becomes part of the dance
welling up in his hips.
The radio was on.
Some of the men were listening
and began to do an idle dance
below the ceremonial that is prepared.
One animal received the presentation.
I listened to it on the radio
wondering why nothing stops the serial
free to go on inventing itself
through fire through thunder through blisters of time
and the world. Nothing much comes to cheat us
of this vapor.
Cheese __ at the moment? Nutcases.
The night you saw Screwy Squirrel
When I went over to him I said I'm sorry.
We respect these.
William Biggs died some years ago.