DAN BEACHY-QUICK
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De/crease


To be half-storm, half air-waiting for storm—
I stood at lake-edge to tell the front: Move in.
“Move in.” Why? I found in my own hand’s crease
A secret thought: Fold in half what you see—
Then you’ll see-it-not. Instance? A letter, Master, I wrote
To you, asking, “Who do I call Master now?—
Now your thumbprint on water’s erased.” Fold 

My inked-page in half, a half-page, bright-again, scolds:
You’ve not seen. I’ve seen: storm-struck, the lake half-drown
Beneath a cloud. Seen: the frond that, on flood, floated—
Folded into stone. But how word my plea?
Grant pardon. Give me—one chance more, to cease
Doubt. Storm—your lake-in-half is my question.
(Promise me an answer half-as-large lingers, looms.)

 

Emergency in Favor of Twice


Stall [repeat]    stall light in- [repeat]    stall light in-
Side the lamp. That filament does not glow 

Before it glows [repeat]    it glows within
The eye [repeat]    eye before the switch is thrown. 

Grasps no star its leaden sense: a blue flame
[repeat]    flame with the misspelled paper 

Is thrown out. Match-tip self, I—I misnamed
The wick in me: Dark-You. You. You taper 

Down to lead-wire [repeat]    wire in me—
Unsparked, unable to spark—in me: my doubt. 

Stall storm. Verify. Stall lightning. Verify.
Lightning, moment-torn: an electric root 

Will not burn [repeat]    not burn [repeat]    burn
Twice. Stars don’t stutter. Lamps [repeat]     lamps dim.

Small Allegory

Humble walked beside Desire, desirous.
Desire blushed. The Author thought
Of an atmosphere: circus, or circus-like,
The late sun on mountain-tops, the peaks
Of tents No One pitched. The Man Risen
From The Grave looked No One in the face.
“Are we here,” he asked, “in this field
Where the foothills slope down into longgrass
Sweeping back up the hill?” “The Juggling
Bears never weary,” No One answered.
The bears juggled red balls in the field, tireless.
Humble took Desire’s hand; both trembled,
The field between them trembled, the grass
In the wind. The Author thought the sky
Should be darker and it grew darker.
The keen-sighted bears didn’t pause.
No One disappeared. “Where are you?,”
Called out The Man Risen From The Grave.
“Beside you.” No One’s constitution was twilit,
And as the sun set, No One expanded whole
Into the whole element. “Kiss me,” said Desire.
“You are so far away,” said Humble, “but I will.”
One red ball rose, not even thrown, from the dark
Paw of one bear’s paw. “Look!” “Look!”
Humble leaned nearer; the old moon rising.
Humble’s lips numb in the twilight. “Look!”
The bear caught the red ball in his jaw,
Teeth gentle against the skin. Like an umbrella
Slowly closed the mountain collapsed
Upon its axis. From a distance the world
Entire looks like a pine tree dying
Or the aspen sapling rising. “Where are you?”
Humble asked Desire. “Beside you, I'm beside you.
You asked your question with my mouth.”
Humble in aria needed no words. When the bear
Closed his mouth the ball and No One
Let a single breath escape.