Morgan Lucas Schuldt

 

 



Aubade

 

O Causes . . .

             -Barbara Guest

 

Waking to must, there are those who want

to bruise

                    in god's hands.

 

On eye-catch, eye-volved

                                      memorial distances

 

          —(rule-half, half water)—

                                                    they brood.

 

But where sound opens

zound, where   up      breaks sibilant,

 

where coastwise

                        fadings fold       & open-

                                                                air-suddenly

 

all tenses are born—

                                                a dead-bless

     -scending      pull

                             on the body—

          a body

(nakeshift & brine-slung,

wet-greened

                       & pleas'd),

 

                       built for resistence

among the waves.

 

Hear his pent bulk

                                singing: O

 

                       scatter! O idiot rummage!

Here hymnself

 

                       junelooking

for clear lacknowledgements

 

which are

allmost 'causes—

                      Omost causes. Their

 

immense grammaries.

 

 

 

 

sPacific Ode

-for Barbara Cully

 

Overopposides

an underlit     down-roar     rawther.

 

Whelmes     (more or restless

of re-, of de-)

 

soon’t

ankle-deep answerable.

 

Thistinctions     this

                               too-do

 

end of June:

tilt-masts & sails     somehow

                                             anyhow

 

swung & high.  Less vivident—

 

that smooth middle     proof,

 

this sink-a-think

                          plunge, these

 

            high interiors of the se[e]     .

 

Vaults-chant quiet.

 

Underrupting.