The Brooklyn Rail

Oh, Weep for Her!
(An elegy for Cole Heinowitz, composed of altered lines from Shelley’s Adonais and Cole’s own poems)

Oh, weep for her! The quick Dreams,
       The passion-winged Ministers of thought,
       Who were her flocks, whom near the living streams
       Of her young spirit she fed, and whom she taught
       The love which was its music, wander not—
       Wander no more, from kindling brain to brain,
       But droop there, whence they sprung; and mourn their lot

              .

Surface can hold? I dropping
and weighty think to grab
or change underwater brown to bones
make a strong metaphor
I can look up and want

the mid-sea curved in leaping part…

I shows that the precipice demands music
like myself
and so we sing

I should forget the encumbrance of a body
yet with no single absence
but disbelief these oceans
express increasingly golden matters

Look how beautiful when the water sucks closed over the rocks. So dry, endless thirsty.

Our breath contains more moisture than an entire sea

Water does have flavor
I do have ambition
my face is wet with flavor

associated with rain and thunder
inward flow or current, as in air
large eyes
rudimentary tail

negation is becoming
music, the irrecoverable
it repeats, broadly elliptic

a sense of no end
will no longer suffice

The center’s existing inside of a rhyme…is only a token…that’s spoken in time

   .
All she had lov'd, and moulded into thought,
      From shape, and hue, and odour, and sweet sound.

.

I am, in fact, unable to keep bubbles from entering my mouth, and once they’re in, I don’t want 
      to swallow them, so I have to blow them out.

Each molecule of water, bound by a limelit orgy in the elevator before internship to some
    cubic unit of sea reef requiting birth, causes an eddy of causality where sedimented rings
    appear as vertical chutes in the heat of the moment

It started to rain in awkward musical forays

First growths still wavering under the water

The sun hits the water cherry-colored

Octagons float in an alluvial sea that hates them. Beaten by oars, this sea and the sloshing and 
      grating of cranial plates

I’m an amoeba were they soon flows
then that’s the rhythm

the slime makes a high dive

some monsters wake in blood depth

of artificial waterways I go
over how a bridge places

not to be dead, skirted to punish
looked like that garish I used

my costume and defiant seem
to live and move only now
the great vermilion come and behold

if song comes from death
tame-head lions for dogs to free man
or river guards dance at god cave

Surrender in joy victims that was and a baby
that sexual day in water would dare crossing
the Rubicon in open nostalgia

Don’t clamp so tight now but
render all seams
to intimate
seas

     .

Afar the melancholy thunder moan'd,
      Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay,
And the wild Winds flew round, sobbing in their dismay.