Gone and there our bodies, near and not to hold. Here: forest to chromium, stone to umber, violet clouds the far water. Here: each of our bodies as one forgets, posed in difference. You derive from this, a gaze, a farther delayed, incomplete all ways. Eternal arrival where we never, our pleasure made gone, there, in our forest’s grayed down greens, in our stream’s graded hues, in use, in you. I never seen, tell us naked, tell us heat or him, tell us touch, tell death your story, our bodies, there, gone, each a child’s toy, a reel he tosses past sight, o-o-o-o, pulls back by its thread. Thread we play you hold. Here:
Slowly the rain
thinks :
jasmine
thistle
withered fingers
of the poinsettia
budding—
Light empties
from the sky’s face : shadows
heap on shadows, leaves
fallen from a psalter
The jaws of the hour
relax
You beckon
I enter am broken
spoken