Unknown Unmade Untitled

 Deadwood. Low noon.  Pigment evacuates the suburbs and cheeks
         of a tired form worn on a board sign
         posed by a bar.  Empty. Amid bare 

walls of the tedious, pinned by the four-square
        metaphysic-cramp, Spectare be-
        weeps abandoned a lot
        soul alone 

in the unfilled presence of silicon.  Glass.  Clear.
        To the god straight through.
        I alone am clouded.
        And 

as the sun empties over there (its living streams) and the dream
       fever of a film (cut) 

merges with the obscurity of his mind
       direction shifts 

off a trance paralyzed dance
                                              severed on a tumbler’s edge
to a face familiar his fades
                                           on a still sign aloft 

Action Cut Actio Cu Ac Tut

[The Cabinet of Dr Spectare] [His Inheritance] [His Certificitude] [Unknown Unmade Untitled] [His Descent] [His Pensées] [Spectare Herculeans] [His Gnomes] [His Chanson] [His Millenium] [His Triumph] [Amor Brevis] [His Incognito] [His Third Torment] [His Humours] [The Dig] [Fire Sermon] [Third Eye]