Morgan Lucas Schuldt





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-



all tenses are born—

                                                a dead-bless

     -scending      pull

                             on the body—

          a body

(nakeshift & brine-slung,


                       & pleas'd),


                       built for resistence

among the waves.


Hear his pent bulk

                                singing: O


                       scatter! O idiot rummage!

Here hymnself



for clear lacknowledgements


which are

allmost 'causes—

                      Omost causes. Their


immense grammaries.





sPacific Ode

-for Barbara Cully



an underlit     down-roar     rawther.


Whelmes     (more or restless

of re-, of de-)



ankle-deep answerable.


Thistinctions     this



end of June:

tilt-masts & sails     somehow



swung & high.  Less vivident—


that smooth middle     proof,


this sink-a-think

                          plunge, these


            high interiors of the se[e]     .


Vaults-chant quiet.