Bruce Beasley



In the sessions something hidden was made manifest.
& in their Minutes something manifest


Apocryphal: hidden away.

And so as dreams will work
their manic substitutions,
recondite, I keep
working mine:
alchemical, the purged stone.
mud & excrement off the fractured crystal)

The quotidian's
fool's gold.

Already memory sheds & sheds its scurf.

In the apocryphal
Gospel of this February,
some gravitational force can only be traced

through what's left warped
by having been so pulled:
ellipsis straining outward toward the strange
unseeable attractor . . .

& some fluent aphasia
maintains its syntax, stutters
through its substituted words:read obfuscate for clarify,

abominate for enshrine.
For I dread to see you going read
How unaccountably
soothed I keep feeling now you're gone
. . .

EPR #5:
Elliptic Apologia and Ars Poetica  

© 2003 Electronic Poetry Review