two poems
To Charlie, on His Poetry
For C. K. Williams
Confession implies shame you had none of that you did those c-scans of your own mind shamelessly, following every fold, penetrating every layer: the mind looking at itself, the mind examining itself—Guilt yes, anger yes, lust yes, like a carnival ride, the lacquered car careening all over the area, zipping, bumping, to a viewer it might seem out of control but no, it was only passionately honest.
The zoom of your poem would often pull far out from the scene you were capturing, then you would nail it, down to the last pixel of the truth.
The truth was not inscrutable but it resisted, it wanted to wrestle.
Fear yes, doubt absolutely, and don’t forget sweet love, breaching like…