Birds like max­ims brightly devour
what is begot­ten born and dies.
Senators espe­cially are
screwed into nose rings
and hunt cat­a­strophic wis­dom
to pass to be perch-​​brass.
Plucked anvils in shape of angels
climb down tether but but­ter
is in a hurry to melt.
The par­ent­ing beseems a fine
line for gen­tle loops in monastery
those kind thoughts of devo­tion.
Beeswax balls now lunge now
become cen­trally located.
Sexual urges flip their coin.
Time ter­plexed is knock
to new mat­ter pais­ley wood.





Confucian?
Calmly on a later Sunday, March 23, 2008

–Robert Mueller




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Robert Mueller is a Midwesterner trans­planted to points East and has
enjoyed, in a man­ner of speak­ing, his res­i­dence of more than 20 years
in New York City. He has con­tributed poems to First Intensity and
American Letters & Commentary, and to other upstand­ing
pub­li­ca­tions, and his poetry may be viewed online in forth­com­ing
edi­tions of Moria and SugarMule.com. He has a Ph.D. in com­par­a­tive
lit­er­a­ture from Brown University, and writes mainly on Barbara Guest,
and on Edmund Spenser and Susan Wheeler, and finally and futu­rally on
many another famous poet past and present.

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Copyright © 2008 Spinozablue and Robert Mueller. All rights reserved.
The mate­r­ial on this site may not be repro­duced, dis­trib­uted, trans­mit­ted, cached,
or oth­er­wise used, except with the prior writ­ten per­mis­sion of Spinozablue, Inc.

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