The first marquee hay(na)ku anthology

dreamt a centaur was humping me I was definitely   outside of myself the bodies that matter rarely exist

otherwise   two fine quarto sheets stapled twist of ivy trestles up brick how limitless one seems to selves in an outtake virgins brooding change blue cloth housed in gold preserved   in a cloth chemise very fine

someone   you love sleeping with your open book the chest peacefully   breathing such intimacy can hardly be achieved   to take your words to bed to hold them against the heart to dream privately with another's intimations   every book must dream with it

at night the landscape is anonymous at night the landscape is autonomous   night is landscape walk with me night is language and I will night is linkage what of you hand in hand the night is harmonious

insight you ask if spiritual it’s then that’s for to presented   no less empty space to we may

gravity blackens wings with joyful scars place meant time brief identity fragment nothing adds up love isn’t math great mountain wind came down cool I am speaking   to you now

With thanks to Dan, Eileen, Ernesto, Harry, Jean, Mark, Sheila, Tom, and Vincent

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