Responses to an Album of Photography

1.

The doors flowing
Into their past
With occassioned
Glimpses of light
Perspicacious in shadows

2.

The crypt shining
The spherical beams
Of beauty, pointing
To the ceiling's vague
Reflection in the waves
Of cervical marble

3.

Lakes of clouds, squashed
Underheel on the rude clods
Of concrete;
Cobbled walls, bent
In the glassy streams

4.

The ship points its prow
To the stakes of the buoy
Fastening the ocean
To the cloud pastured hills, but bound
To its brothered deck

5.

Stones swim in the basin of pebbled
Trunks, and the leaves cling
To the pulverized floor; or they poke
From the oils and nard, ripened with grafting
Flavors

6.

The apparition of twilight
Reflected in a star
Stirs curdling pots; the uncooked kitchen
Rusts

7.

The bucket lies upturned, just like
Truncated pyramids in igloo tones, but too naive
The prey of warps by tattered lace

8.

Clay bottles and bellies
Build intoxication, waving webs
Obscure the snow-paled brights

9.

Steel claws attack, by porcelain
And latin'ed tags, the silvered eggs

10.

A concave cup, with concupiscent
Stem, with flaccid trunk

11.

The grim house along the geometrical
Lines of reality,
By the obscured, illuminating fog
Of illusion; the turning measures
Of the spinning globe,
Whirling 'round inside themselves

12.

A far facade against a desperate tree,
The recovery, by balls, bronzed domes,
Of the sky's serenity

13.

The monster perching tent
Of cattled wood, by symeretric,
Prison bound ports; a dozen keyholes
Stacked against a dozen, then another dozen
Peering upwards for a better view

14.

Vertigo of the dizzy alley,
Watching a motorbike pass through
The leaning, slattered shades

15.

The bridge descended in a leap
Across the watered gulley

16.

Where does the peacocked eye
Of the battered circles mix into the dough
Of new deceptions?

17.

Projections of stone, arch and ancient;
The amusing grace withholds her breasts
From the catty sly of hanging balls
-- The gruff goats watch

18.

Chesire eyes know the hidden secret of the god
Is not among this ruined place,
But what assured straightness
Is the crooked chin

19.

Cascades of many poppies
Hang in the leaves; the garden gate
Voluminous with vines, invites
Saharan prairies

20.

The poplar trees make pathways through the mist
To stone-lying tables, amid distrust
Of the tired trunk's circling arms

21.

Stab into support of buildings, solid steel
Rims of the portico palace, collapse the caprice
Of the well-cut stone to intolerant glass

22.

Enter the abolishing kitchen, just by
The oriental silence of the lamps, declining
Hard-backed chairs
With windy lace

23.

The mirrors lie in the true beauty
Of their sculptured rapports

24.

The teacup satisfies
Its own designs

25.

The long glass reflects on tragedies
In gilded splendour

26.

The shavings of music make perfect notes

27.

Multitudes of hard-bottomed chairs
Could not stay seated and departed
From the pillared panoply

28.

Do you know my drooping lips,
My unsatisfied face? The strings of fate
Pull unspeakable hunger and clack
My replicate arms

29.

The hand could not escape the gauntlet
Of the brimstone blaze, but cast itself
In cracks of iron

30.

The limbed wax drifted in the sallow pools

31.

Did you note our finish? We are eager
To assay chartless waves

32.

Beas infest their grace, the buttressed breasts
Horny for peerless hands, a chiseled face

33.

Do you know a good joke? I hide
The tastiest ethers
Of wine

34.

The apples were succulent and painted
To excellence of vermillion grapes,
While the crystal bobbed glass
Could not escape
The englished mellon's eyes

35.

The edges of the books intact,
But pages of volumes rusty

36.

The cushion rimmed curl of imbedded fact

37.

We hold the scroll of sanctus Christ
Forever fixed in grey

38.

The rippling edges of the harpsichord
Piano the wood-dusted fabricate keys

39.

The long light shines
By the burning arch, cubbies
The clear air in running stripes

40.

Look to the brick plastered
Doorways for ascension

41.

King in father Christ, kneel
For the stuccoed baptist,
The baptized and the flowing folds
Of latin robes

42.

Each of these whites is chequered
With black-rined stones

43.

Come for the boiling basin
Shadowed in triple portlets,
Stay for the circled lights

44.

Along the laddered length you'll find
Job's ascension into heaven
And the calcinate thrust
Of salt-spayed air.