Friday, May 11, 2012

Some Short Early Poems by Bruce

a man who knows

around the railed wood glass box
he walks
and stops
at the window
to be framed.

we meet

we meet
not where we are
but in the distortion of light bent
by old glass


stars

stars are only holes in the sky
where earth rubbed heaven raw

eyes

when I close my eyes
I like to think
my face is safe

what does it mean

what does it mean
when you walk
from the window
to an all-walled room
look at the clock
to tell you
when
the sun sets?

19

19 nails in holes of sun
pin it to the panoramic backdrop
every year I pound
another hole to hold it there
it fills
with holes
the nails
are lost
in space.

sky and sea

sky is vermilion
spotted with patchwork watermelons
cracking like clouds
spilling crystal seeds
to feed earth.

sea is yellow
and sings like bees
in honey tones.


you

you have the lust for beauty
that steals flowers
from graves

you can take back
your second-hand time
but I'll rob the hour
you held my hand.

orange

on a sunny day
peel it
watch its pores pop
and spray fragrantly

separate section by section
peel again
the thinner skin
see how complete

each piece is
and the pieces in the piece
are shiny and full
its blood breaks

five thousand times
on your tongue
taste
the orange




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