I will wash my teeth again this year


I will wash my teeth again this year,
shower away the scent of salty sweat.

I’ll shave the stubble from my chin
and trim the hairs within my nostrils short.

I’ll cut my nails, keep eyebrows in their place,
suck out the wax that blocks my straining ears.

I’ll dry the feet, prevent a pungent smell.
All this I swear to do before year end.

Surely you spent some years subtracting time
from work to carry out such rituals?

You must be committed to keep so clean,
you use the latest market-leading brands.

It’s clarity of mind and purity
of purpose that secretes consistency.

In the air  there is a sound 

In the air there’s a sound

reviving and bound

for the inner ear,

a note sketched out

below a rug floating

there about three ages

removed from the pages

strewn with grooves

barely crowned.

Words are majesty

regal tenants of the well

resounding 

Utterances as dances

vowing to work

miracles

Places for space and space for places

names that an age back

meant more than nostalgy

Inventions from an page

of cloud cover

blanket-wrap,  infant howls

The wage earned in deep preparation

for entry

along the narrow passage you never remember

except in dreams.