Thursday, March 16, 2006

A POEM by Stephen Vincent

Tenderly #1, or. The Gertrude Improvs

A sweet loss, climb on, get loud or:

Wood splinters, wood breaks, breaks not nearly on liquid:
Wood, wood is not a desert, it is rejected, too facile, it burns money
Smokes one, possibly you, possibly not, right to the face:

Give it up, wood, smooth it, smooth it down who's, who's face
Throat: stop! Reed, to play a reed, a wooden one, incontinuous, the squeak
Bristled, to bristle, jauntily, continue this, this often, one says, will do:

A dream over is cyber solid diminished by waking, to ask
A slow answer responds to slow rise, negates
Puncture, rolls the basketball, prompts one, one says, yes, indeed, hoop:

A dark in the sun, more light one day, the next, not
Nor thereafter, clarity a clue obnoxious: February in shift
Shiftless, hook nor anchor, none, barely, not much, nor:

Swept clear, no notion ever repair, not: such non-illustrious
Punctual, purely, step one, step two, A, B, throw in a Z or an L
A music, emergent; note, one does, a trapezoid, transparent crystal:
One, then two, then necklace, then tickle, then parody: winter no light
Sparse, the dark narrow flush, call it, one will, blooming.

Stephen Vincent - poet, walker, teacher, editor & publisher - lives in San Francisco. Recent Ghost Walks - a series that explores combinations of photographs and texts - appear in Masthead 10. Most recent ebook publications include Triggers, from Shearsman Books and Sleeping With Sappho, from faux. His volume Walking is published by Junction Press. Vincent also maintains a popular blog of commentary, poetry and photographs.