MICHEL LEIRISVertical
On our heads
the finely striped space
and sometimes the work of swift gusts of air
Charge of living clouds
the shoulders’ horizon
At the waist
the tousled routes
the sunny stumps of the heart
Grass
thirst of the threadbare earth
toward the rock of knee
Beneath our feet
piece of blackened sky
the shadow we cut
—cole swensen
Miserly
Lighten me
unfeather me
strip my baggage down to bare
Abandoning my long-plumed train
of plumage
of needlepoint and feather spray
to become miser-bird
lyre of the lone flight of its wings
—cole swensen
Misdeal
Dice
momentarily together
fly apart on the table