Tim Lilburn Poems

Set a fat layer of fire grazing into the chest of engine heat, breast-

stroking against motion perfuming from the sickness of volt swollen inhalations. Let

this heat sag to a half-eaten meal not its own; let it eat rods,
...

The Divine Comedy, its crane beak glistening, the rusted

paring knife skull cap, bambooed sexual legs payloading and floating

in flax stubble, like someone
...

Pythagoras, sliced, freezered cat, defrocked Wal-Mart greeter, in anachoresis,

face welted with interior mountainings, mountain whippings, grinds ahead, dolphining,

dolphining,
...

Ten yards of mineral hair fall inside the cruciform hummingbird,

inside these unthrottled, ox-bearded shoulders of wasps.

Egyptian quail, the Orient of the quail, are a ringed hand
...

Then I went along the Amur River,

chert in my elbow, a grasshopper ligature bucking the end

of my tongue.
...

Ten yards of moonless hair herniate inside the cruciform

hummingbird, then well from its green belly.

And inside you, Enkidu, ibex-nosed, streamchested, the Friend,
...

I dug a slot into no address,

I dug a slot warm as a hand into the water of the air.

The eye seeing me is a charred-wood backed river cannonballing
...

Momentum's needle pulls the ear in its elm bark casket

under four and a half feet of ice,

past alder leaf hide windows, where it sweats shaking, boney rooms
...