The Saint of Difficult Furniture

my sister understood your language
she paid her toll     ripped out her own
eyes rather than      see the devil

cut out her tongue when she was going
    to speak ill of our father

I still stumble    bruise my palms 
when  I cross her bridge     a handful of red hair
caught in the broken guardrail

I start out small    just a tiny letting
of blood from the ankles
with a dull knife

I know suffering pleases you    I know it’s how
we show we’re true     pure as the hum
of a fresh bucket of milk

the blood forms little
pools at my feet

your words are about
to fling themselves from my tongue

like footprints, dark and wet,
climbing a golden ladder
out of this    dirt back yard

more vispo
the text is below, if you can't read it



a sphere: how do you change its shape

you will stop both ears tightly and hold a watch

                                           perhaps you 
                                      thought of lawn-mowers, food
choppers, and can openers.  If you did so, you were still guessing.

These stories, however, are not based on the inclined plane, the lever, the screw,
                 the wheel and axle, the pulley, and the wedge.

What you have just read might leave you to believe that
the "weather-man" has not been changed by drifting.

        all of these devices 
                 shout loudly in your ears:

                                     the earth.

                                          the snow.

                                       hundreds of men.

               the rain in the tube past the edge of your hand.

You will understand better
          a complicated machine with hundreds of parts.

You can hear the watch quite plainly.  Its vibrations
                                           as it travels
                                       lighted by the sun,
living creatures on the moon.

Ecstasy at 3PM

this time
 Claire’s made sure 
  to lock the door

when she does it
 under the sheets
 her legs feel as if they
  lifted themselves away 

 trembling, reddened
 she shudders

smells the sour starlings again
 hears their crack! whirl!
  behind her headboard

the Virgin manifests 
in the waterstain
on the ceiling  her eyes downcast
   modest  
   pale finger to her lips

Claire knows she’s always watching

 irises multiply 
between her legs
 the stamens scratch her thighs

she hides a razor blade
 under her tongue
  pulls it out
   to help them along

Vispo! I've got a few more I'm going to upload. Here's one made of a collage and cut-ups from a 1940's grade school science textbook:



Hope you can read the text -- I think it's big enough.