they say the hour of the elephant has ended the curious octaves of lily pads are asleep on the beds of imaginary rivers (mellow, green, with lofty perfumes of herbs and fresh candlelight) i hope you’ve enjoyed this time between planets the sacred meditations of snails philosophers retro-emotional sunflowers …breathing in space breathing out bouquets of tantric fireflies to make the idea clearer, still: it is a fact that birdsong is the most universally-recognized form of silence and multiplied most effortlessly these wild determinations this apocalypse of strawberry tears
I’ve been thinking lately of publishing a new chapbook. I think it’s time. And I imagine, within the next few months (or sooner), I will probably do it. That said, I wrote this poem with a forthcoming chapbook in mind. I think I already know the title poem. And perhaps now, I’ve got something of an ending.