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Andrew Joron


Atoms Have Their Hive



God, it is to be

supposed that Man is in pain.


Spilt into split, as sigh unto scythe––


Pain is a red scarf

Freed from my body

            & whirled away, a skirl on the wind.


As atoms have their hive

In have––

I halve my half forever.


For: for the maker

            mirrored = marred.


Rhyming ever over, over ever


––quill & quell––


What leaf-turned book, what


Read red

            wall of sky, red wall of womb?


A man of sorrows knows no series, so

The sore rose cannot come to sere ease.


Gift of the impossible:

total fragment that includes only what excludes itself.


Thus, this

whisper supports space, as a rumor


or a room lost within its exact locality.


But a sob neither does nor does not resemble a bell


& wants night & light at once.






Autumnal Spring



Written on a rotten

Leaf, word to ward toward:


the fallen are the

first to enter time.



The arrived, torn

The born.


Belated that

relation, floated upon flesh, as


Age to page: for the anatomy of reason

Is want.


(As the mire wants, taunts the mirror


or the scarf of the skin is

loosed in wind, in mind.)


––that we, that tree that travels


In unearthly season, bring breath to term––


To song, to sing “There is no



& “Belonging

Elongates to longing & the gates of song.”








                        for Rusty Morrison



As, as “a

dog is barking, a bog

            is darkening,” is

Truth of God, truth of God


is subtracted.


            I know not

To nominate night.


Time tells my duty


to the dateless:

            a tearing & a tearing.


I decline the word ending, the cloudless eye:

            X aches for existence.


Still the conclusion, unstill the shore.


So loosed, last is the first


made fiercest, there

            where the war of One is won.


Blest blast:


To break or to brake

            the breathtaking instant––


To find only in all

            the unfounded


& rife fire, the

detail of eternal day as delay.








Born in San Antonio, Texas in 1955, Andrew Joron grew up in Stuttgart, Germany; Lowell, Masschusetts; and Missoula, Montana. Joron is the author of Science Fiction, The Removes, and Fathom. He lives in Berkeley, where he works as a freelance bibliographer and indexer.



Copyright ©2006 by Andrew Joron.