So it is with the frantic vanishing of things.
Late into the escapade you wondered why you felt this
Way and how. The trees and the deer outside were
Not…
You were walking backwards into the strength
Of somebody else’s poem, all while you were not looking.
The trees were the color of the houses, the houses
The color of…
It was only in the frenzy of an unheard of
Night that I heard you singing the end of God’s life.
In the private language of hopelessness, all of us…
How, I, in taking you apart diminished myself was beyond me.
And yet tamed and merciful I sit here listening. Situation
After situation unfolds without choice. The drugged forests
Have…
You were secretly enamored
With the split backbone of the sex and
Centuries and the love hereafter of feeling alive.
She brushed the clouds and the earth stopped its tumult.
…
Now there is never something that
You can never quite articulate that speaks
Up and down the ladder of vowels and vows
And moves you to assimilate yourself into
The…
Half of what I said was metaphor.
Quietness, the gift.
The heart asleep.
I drew a circle here: eyeless and strange.
I strapped you in. The moths
Around the house…
Winter without winter. A Baroque feeling
Of things, permeating the half-lost field of
Vision and observation. In this, there is
Death and life, but you have to choose. Your vigilance
…
