Flowers for Non's Ear

    that courteous labyrinth

        dendritic as music            will be


                                                   lazy respect

                                                      termagants who kiss harpies

            the royal unless

                                    follows everyone swift

                                                 rider soon riderless

          why do you keep yours

                                                       a mere cartouche

                           I remember you
                                                     gauche Arachne

              doddered endoscopically in paintings

                poikilothermic really

                                                            whose Saturdays now

                                                                do you kaleidoscope

                             endlessly holothurian

                                                       dividing under stress

                                                                           seaside mentality

               rationing power

                                                         ciliated mossy pubic eyelash
                                  peering at me through tubes

                         (Did you know in Ancient Greek
                                                                           pearl is heel?)

                                      lenticular pleasure spots

                                                                                      thermal uprushes
                                                                                               anemones under

                        gardens of appearing
                                                         Minos applauds
                crayon fix

                                                                             as ancient Rome to Twombly

                                        what's impossible

                                                                          the mountain of putting

                                   off in a book

                                                                subtly deceptive

           the drooping barkened (mute) respect of Pasiphae

                                                                                        seems most wise

                                                                       rock-gnawing flower

                                  who named you?

                                                                                                in their un-wisdom

                               their wishdom

                                                             we tread among the void-flocks
                                                              lip and velar
                                                                                  clouds to embrace

                                the only question

                    will nature's
                                       nil of parentage

                                                                               hurt these

                                                   far enough?



W.B. Keckler is the author of Sanskrit of the Body (Penguin), which won a National Poetry Series Award in 2002.