Another Mark

Like the I, II, III, IV, V
on the wall of a Latin stone cell
you might imagine it slimy, algae-like
with water dripping from an open window
high above the day-to-day
incriminations and executions

by that I mean
the daily grind, the nose,
the grindstone

if you look closely you will notice
that spinning wheel and the slimy wall
are cut from the same quarry



Invocation (The Artist)

the first trick, getting other artists to do
part of the work
it was fun and original
it was because I’d run out of ideas

my omnipotent dealer did not care
a signature meant nothing but
a commission, a share
ten years, a decade, tick-tock

the second trick was to trick myself
into believing I could direct thoughts
through disparate channels
because I’d again, run out of ideas

three decades later the push-me-pull-you effect
is negligible, invoked like a prayer
for unbelievers who continue
to run out the clock on inspiration



Ash

ghosts wander the bookstore
Miwa is firmly ensconced in Kyoto
that much I know

you would think ashes and water
make mud
a glue tethering us to the past

ghosts wave to me from yesterday
I’m frantically writing all of this down
on flammable paper

you would think the hard drive
is invincible
you would be wrong

[RK, 5/1/23]