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Side A Half-Sonnets.

"Hot Air

So soft my pleasure came
Upon a dream,
Iced fire and frosted flame

It was, too brief for blame.
Yet sharp to seem
So soft. My pleasure came

And went--that was its shame,
Not that, supreme,
Iced fire and frosted flame,

It bore the ancient name
Harsh hearts blaspheme.
So soft my pleasure, came

A wind and woke me tame
To that regime
Iced fire and frosted flame

Had burnt to a black frame
Before their steam.
So soft, my pleasure, came
Iced fire and frosted flame."

--Vassar Miller, 1963

A Refusal to Anatomize Hauntology, in a Belated Year.

and the skies
move against us

were we wise,
and the skies
thick with flies
had not fenced us

and the skies
move against us

Final cut.