Thomas R. Peters, Jr.

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“Almost every trace of the Moths”
mmmmmmmwith Jack Spicer
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I.
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With the gums gone you
are toothless, And the nose is next to nothing
the eye alive
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And now the rattling
Of the radiator the floor
is loose, the even row of it
fit to raise 11 children.
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You will count on them 1, 2, 4, 8, One hundred
You will stay in the midst of them,
You will know them, you will hear them
in the narrow meadow
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II.
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In the endless endlessness
snow, sea salt
He lost his teeth
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Without eyes or thumbs
He suffers from restlessness
How to lick a wound
(salt)
His lover left.
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Snow sea salt love
In the lovely endlessness
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III.
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Blue rooted heron, loon lake
river song, like me no traveler
taking a rest, loose-winged water-bird
And dumb with music theory.
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I stand upon the waterfront, like him no traveler
before, dangling on Icarus wings
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Aching for flight, for waxen wings
I ache and take my rest
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So let us die for death alone is motion
And death alone will make these herons fly.
I fall wingless in the ocean
& die.
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