David McLean

---

rectitude

because it is sunset
the city is shrouded
in monastic rectitude
humble as a mushroom.

the city is not visible
from here, it is seen
once and forever
inside the eye

because of time.
there are pigeons
there, their stomachs
eat buildings backwards

as they fell. Bildung
is so seldom. because
of sunset and summer
coming, silent cities

lie shrouded inside me
as i sleep razor
night. (here ghouls
eat time alive.)

 

 

 

electric silence

electric silence is the breath of panting animals
in winter, maybe an obvious wraith
floating temporary sketches of heaven
over a lake;

when it freezes smoke rises tiny explosions
in the cold, the world floating her nowhere
stolid as a cow crucified against night's
intolerant sky. silence alive