The Poet in Post-Endurance

Evolved from the smoke of a swirling helium tree
you roam through post-endurance
through a stunning proto-absence
with your darkened renegade's code
scaling unfixed memoranda

a memoranda which spins
inside your blackened psychic hive
black at its core with levitational scorching

you being Kaufman & anti-Bob Kaufman
reversing nebulae & comets
with a blazing distillation

creating endurance which lives
throughout placeless macro-sums
so that the integers burn
& become nameless
& then live again in ironic anodyne rebellion

with your murmur which ignites Myrmidons
who are specters
who dwell
as iotas in concealment
as iotas in dysgenic emblems

you rise above them with "Seven ice white suns"
Melanesian & cloudy with rays

Bob
I am speaking of what I seem to sense of your after-existence
of your grainy laryngeal yields
your voice then being a mirror
flashing in a cloak of translucent sonar

so if I speak of bells
of the different variety of rainbows
it is akin to sudden moral aphasia
like darting fire through quixotic terrain

& this terrain
shadowed by light
cast by iniquitous lanterns

so if I fail to speak
of the specific germs of the earth
it is because you have left gravity
& betrayed the act of gravid posture or trade

& by trade
I mean the moneron of the weapon makers
or the poet who dwells in academic errata

I glimpse your galactic remains
on a broken lotus isle
with vitric marmosets
with astral sea iguanas
under tripled lunar fragments
both greenish & black in demeanor

as you wander with the ingenuity of crystal
& the sky you witness a turbulent anti-mathematic
rife with non-calendrical remainders
so that you waft

you no longer commingle with pestilence
with the lingering ammonia of jails
or the glare from hunchbacked boulevard parades

you now exist
as amazing imaginal witness
as curious radium typhoon
scattered
like a brightened misnomer
across the arch of your ferocious lingual fingers