Tenney Nathanson


from  Home on the Range


mending, new curtains to be put cook supper, task flat and was known enough

no Buddha hiatus darker louder the pie screamed

in his hand.  He knew life     to be wit-     glad as if I     self     as if the     belonging

the sky screamed imploding in your imploding mouth, nothing to worry about now

Trina clapped and waved from where she stood on     touch. you've got both his shoulders

pinned to the couch, terribilita, push pins, mustard greens the shirt laughing again

smooth cool metal on her half-closed sighs     money," she     all mine. Every     get you

in bed the entire bakery raving now the bread tore its hair like cloudy sky the pie running down the street chased by seedless grapes goodbye

what strange sixth sense stirred air, his eyes

broke out from time to time, -chug, chug-chug, while it got deeper and the drill, once there was a


you are about to go to someone on my journey, believed this man, right but you are wrong.  

Not light, not wind, not the blossom twisting there, not hair blown out of place, rain, rock, shore bird

Nowadays they say they are birth to death, it's when you look you see   

eight stars in a line inside the mountain, winking, his chest opened not yours

in the midst of life and death. In the midst of     and death, nonthinking into make speech, extreme and nonspeech     

extreme and flat, still, stone-like, stretched out under the sheet stone cold.

you will get to be trouble free.  edge.  And do you They are drawn up   

into clouds and carried away, oxidation, Longinus flattened out into the small lake with no waves , just tiny ripples progressing among the intermittent reeds, small birds just a very occasional heron and a burnt log resting there, hollowed out, very slow slosh, slosh, light whir of wings. which is belief now

sky and earth, rivers, unnamable nature of the empty body    

it's just this person, why turn your head.  Very, very simply.     


He was silent. as no dog before     infinite fear with its own laws moving towards me, towards me alone.     

Crenellated light like a motor, heard far off across empty streets, shards of broken glass gleaming like the dream of fire that wakes in your hand

he did not know my method, an unavoidable reproach which was palliated by the caution and self-abnegation   

which is pure theft. Teeth rustled in the box, like grass in sand, and the snake rose conjured like rain against the Sphinx's eye near its cold golden doxa

into bloody conflicts. proof that the first generation was past, but none    

rose against it then, till sleet only, and dry driven grass, blown sand with light of the red sun lurid in every grain, each gaze driven before it too like sand and straws in wind, each wave, each unmoved mover

expulsion from paradise, Consequently the this world irrevocable   

stain of shit and the cold beauty of stars. the road.

the powers. yet old as I am to me that burrow stands    

melancholy, impotence, sickness, reply for-of freedom. of misery. denies.   


This was the beginning this oneness holding a flower   

face cracked open in laughter Susan said, and told me "I hope your face cracks" that was Deer Park

is a true man without    of the face of every     yet provoked him, look, asked "What     him away   

darkness ripening now, the winking stars expunged till the snake's huge jaws unhinge and right here reposes the little deer holding the ribbon in the cupped invisible hand of Guan Yin, the air and the breeze

the readiness of time without being, years   

the mesa which looked like the bottom of the bowl of sky till you drove further, looked down to see another floor spread way below you, dry dead sea rippling waves of light alive

I built many temples that we will be We have   

little sand urchins, flotsam, froth of tiny waves, echoes ripples buzzed whispers crotch and vine, and remember silkthread, but the little dissolving fingers, tongues, of the sea now

moon rises Tao is reflected, even my age bright   

the ground three times     sea's breath     gate.