excerpt from from Fantastic Caryatids

Look at that field
I love that field, late in flower
And trees that head the precinct
Queen Anne’s Lace bedeck in rhythms unforetold
I feel the wind embracing me
And am ready for the season

Thought of the act of seeing with one’s own eyes
Thought of Brakhage trance, how it is an affect of desire
Filmic, fleeting, fragile, focused and it goes on without its manliness:
Of sifting days for a clue, don’t go modern on me
Of deprivation in urban corners, and the lushness too,
Of the past, of us, our time, of our composite generation
And its dimensions as a weed might have
None, you could say, or…
A map of Calvino’s cities, how that is magical and a ride
Thought as we sat in the cafe of both the inadequacy
And the necessity of poetry, of the gallery space
We might visit that can hold one mind and name the local

That is a shift, seasonal, continental,
Brings generation’s urge to conflate
Desire and camaraderie, was that 
The ‘70’s, Loulou de la Falaise, or
The teens, a name not yet known,
A name becoming