TWO POEMS

TWO POEMS
hole
nous

HOLE

there is a in my poem
a very fine hole,
a beautiful hole in fact

rain gets in
wind
whistles
through it

especially
when Mars and Venus
find themselves in
conjunction
or
  imtimately worse

please, if you think
you can fix it
if you have
the technology
or rolls
and rolls of tape

write to
the address below
I desperately
need it mended, need
myself mended

only then
might i be able
to start
  writing with
blind confidence
papering over everything

filling in the cracks
for instead of waning
as you
   might suppose

I feel he is out there
but also
within the lines
bending them
to his will
shepherding
    theit direction

waxing in power
the light suffusing everything

trash-talking all
that is
    askew
          tantamount
to an
apogee of
miserable insanity

hint of the infinite
constantly
   streaming through

****

NOUS

he writes cursively
and yet
concisely

knowing full well
how ripe the world be
to swallow
this tripe

and there is your consensus:
hear it mewl in unison
(child father
        to man but
not
  for this generation)

a gathering gathers: spin-
doctors, masters of character
assassination, doctors
of diatribe

all one tribe whose
genealogy
         is golden, palms
crossed with silver

commentators, phone hacks,
two-way
   radioed manhood
cursed non-
Shakespearean gentlemen

they can call a summit every
minute print the words
that should
      suspend
      everything

deary deary all so dreary
Professor looks so
vacuous right
now

luckily his pen has
the nous to
perpetuate itself