Quasizeros: 21 miscellanous micro-poems

21 miscellaneous micro-poems
for Hans Vogt

                     1

Walking, stopping in
Mid-stride

Leaning on air, word on the tip
Of the tongue

                             2

In the creases of her finger pointing up
To stress not that, but this, what

Else but

Eloquent miniscule
Horizons of grime

                                3

                       Watch the velvet
                             Black
                               Big
                       Birdspider piano
                    Finger his moonlight
                  Sonata, eight arpeggios
                           To cross
                           Your bed

                       4

All the limbs
But not a stitch

Stretched, then, in their folding, that
Much the more naked

                       5

Level head, one hundred such,
Hardly to be seen, tilted

Imperceptibly forward, and
If cocked

Not predatory, never a
Mountain top mistily

Bloodying the dreams in it,
Might, no, not even

These might have rectified
The nasty bent

Our species took, ignorant
From desire, gungho with dread

                        6

Slow wings beating take
Motion from unharmed air

Around children who break at sunrise
Bread and will not grow old

                            7

                    Possum breath
- whiff of the One
              Tongue?
                     Imagination -

Heard a mouth
               open
                   Looked for unicorn (cornered
mirrors) by

Flashlight a ratlike
             baldish creature
Weaving

            Through fresh bark mulch
Pellets, in distant
            Indigo, still driven

To pick among the
       Crusty spitball
                      Subterrene (Nastürmchen!)
Nasturtium seeds

         8

Frowned -

So droopingly
The roof

Tiles overhead
- Heavy

Red beef

                        9

Hellbent, thunderstruck
Piss-asses, locust men
Grope for popcorn, nip the beercan

Gape at a screen

Face cooked
In a helmet
Stole the show for one

                    10

Head thrown back
Feet skimming the ground, who

Is this coming so fast she's
Lost from sight?

                        11

Scorched wizard
Sloped indoors, heard his babies

- A Squelch of organs - uncorked
A bottle of Ghost,

Ate his Lantern, slept, in his high
Horse head, catastrophic, nought

But song of a katydid:
Darkening a mountain, shaking out

The hair of the world

                     12

God, pining for whom helps
Keep some slim

Strip from this, pray, tormented
Skeleton the wobbling

Fat rolls that make him speak
Instead of thunder, with a squeak

                              13

Heavy logistical weapons of muscle mass rush
Up front to fling
A stone

                  Hated squirrel
           Gulps another mouth-
                     Ful of bird-

                                Seed frisks
High/lightly His tail
                                Melts into the trees

                14

Not the eyebrow, its
Traject, not the gorgon

Hairmass, lady,
What is it, this

Mirrorless me
Topples them

Cracking, somehow
Into your pit?

            15

Cuff tucked
Back, palms up to

Help you squinny at
Her cuts

                                  16

A gartered swinger in the human tree
Enjoys her husbands to the tune of three

Her flesh still willing when they hit the floor
She signals for a half half dozen more

Those being spent, her art not stopped, she swings
Up, to catch her breath, her heart on other things

                               17

Glossy, not from clinging, these
Knuckles predecease her quilt -

Eyelid sliding back peels a white,
Now she called a name, joyfully, it was mine

But in the country she came from
Girls divined their fortunes

In shapes of wax they sprinkled hot,
At random, over water

                        18

Dry smell, dark yellow
      tugs at heart thongs -
old leatherbound books, bays glow,
      drifting,
when first light stirs up
      the pure fume


                    19

With cabbage
Leaf ears
Pinned back and young
Stumbling elephant steps I ran
Up to you,
Poetry, but almost
You had forgotten

Me, you
Gave me a lick,
Delicate and
Suspicious, the way
A lion, lowering
His tongue,
Drinks


                     20

                    Hollering into the
              Pool
A wild
       Peony of boys
                     Lobs its petals
 
                     21

As limestone through smoke
   goes amber
               so goes the world

Through my slit eyes, clenched
      hands, when I
             write these poems