Elephant And Obelisk Poem by Tony Tost

New methods for anticipating the moment
I shake my head no for twenty years
the interior is announced
as accident
the ordering of words I am unable to bear
the poems cannot stand to be singular
soaked down to their very blood
in the guise of a drunken master
bright in the harness of angelhood
each of the five senses is a cloud
my mouth entered by song
a theory, a mashing of discourse
a sentence writing not only its words
the hands that torch them
are we among
a vision pierced as its own reward

A suddenly declared form is extended
terms are altered and the extension remains
I have observed that one tends
to heights so rarely attained
please resist leaning across the table
upon which I assert the future is read
this fire is understood to be transferable

the spirit becomes ever more lucid
to articulate the terror of things
speaking each intuitive or repetitive virtue
my poetics is found
pulsating a few
pregnant with images my passage to the surface
these procedures and methods will not erase

entering the reach of each becoming

Brought up by poems
pauses bearing fruit
tinted with blood a stillness summons
itself
to pronounce the emotions
into the mouth the taste of an absolute
appearance is an accomplishment
a scroll
to approach
an ancient arena regards
the inexplicably felt
spilling upward
each pause the song of a certain whole

with my poems I am purchased
tonight I believe this
vision rises like light to its wave
the exact moment a poem dies it takes root
as method
the way up is perfectly brute
to write out the possible we have to leave
pass through the other as a kiss