print previewLet There Be
Light
at the end
like a deer blind
and nothing doing in the hunt light
like a cataract
like a Cadillac, slow rise of light
like God’s hand
in the morning held over
against
your own
incineration
you can’t see
light
like a machine
kicking in
the light,
like a pneumatic press your hands caught in the light
and you can’t
take them
back in the light
lit up like
a ghost’s tongue,
in the electrical socket
the light waits
just for you
so late into the light of itself
like an ingrown toenail
low
moan of light
last ply of ivory in the commerce of light
a whale’s penis bone
under the radio’s frequency, light like a soup,
heavy water,
light like a wafer that dissolves before you can get
a good taste
of the light
its
enumerations
dressing and undressing
all day
the light in front, you like a mirror
so naked
the light holding 
Hard Water
Let There Be