Thomas Kling Poems

of course everything's wet through; slick
with wetness, from all the showings, from the
talk about farness, so to speak, a voice
...

night watch, cometess! old snow!
in the middle of the night, in summer, hissing,
light spittle trails, volley of a
blue-gleaming bolide! as if by wire
...

gazelles, gazelle-
skin, as if well-worn. on it
image writing, and on goat vellum
and on sheepskin; of thumbnail format
...

1
endless telephone calls and clay;
at which appear ('where, at what please? ')
the in
...

landscape with patches.
a landscape with patches of cherry. a self
propagating landscape with ranges of hills.
one in which a royal alcoholic has his
...

1

dead land, an algorhythmic wind
and everything as if coated in breadcrumbs.
...

where even in posted areas
the censors babbled.

tall granite masses.
...

the peak ahead, the slope behind me,
yet she is what I always see. wind

wounds that will not heal. protruding
...

gaze at the mountains' mirror: are those the heights?
graphic provençal, trickling graphite. rub

some off. the plunge of lead into paper?
...

this hair is snow-white, this hair
is black, growing again at the root.

we became liquid. eventually we were
liquidated. so we drifted off, bees
...