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.