A city is a verb, as a cloud is
or cancer. Let us discount.
the class of nouns. In the beginning
was the word, and the word
was a verb, growing and changing
and killing, like all
and every verb, flowing like rivers
glowing like blood meeting the air.
Old Moses, that grey bearded knower
engraved the negative form:
thou shalt not. But creation wouldn’t stop
as Lot knew, running away to sea
while his wife, the old salt
sighed and settled into shapeless was.
The verb, the world turns on — no pause
not even for a hanging (with spears
and circling thorns and great stones rolling)
Rain is a falling, stone a crumbling into sand
like a great house sinking into space
dreaming of his next creations:
glowing in his mind like verbs
as cancer grows from nothing
or the pointing bone disturbs.