Gerrit Lansing

G
Gerrit Lansing
From Under the Mat Where Sat the Cat
Extricate, but not too much,
unfaithful digger of concordances,
let be the whole tasty clutch of it, rhyme
of I’m, not, awake,
child,
bequeathing willow trees beside a stream.
Not only old ravines
but Euclid Avenue,
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The Great Form is Without Shape
All life long
you are unhanding
unhanding and unhanding
what was handed you.

All life long
you throw out the line of life.
You throw out the line, stinging
up from your guts.
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A Poem of Love in Eleven Lines
Dreamer of purified fury and fabulous habit,
your eyes of deserted white afternoons
target, stiffen, riot with unicorn candor
so I swallow your body like meanings or whisky or as you swallow me.

Break rhythm here: your kiss is my justice:
look then now how orange blooms of jubilation unfold in satisfied air!
This sex is more than sex, under the will of the God of sex,
so I softly invoke transformation of your rueful image of haven
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How We Sizzled in the Pasture
for Kenward Elmslie Down in the boondocks rhematic sinsigns multiply

jug jug to hungry ghosts,
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