i.
a fresh earth.
the weight of this hole


ii.
the cry looms suddenly
whole-- a human
form that carries the box
from chasm to chasm;


iii.
we are in awe of this
slender leg & arm; the wheel that spokes
at the center of us soundlessly.  love

as the window is cranked.
as the mouth shows in the shallow stream, a tongue or a stone
seem equally tender;

for instance, you
beside me on the bed, wake

to where we are cast along a wire
from the window to the grave, along
a line of skin to where we cannot
go; a water or circuit.


iv.
then to some where in side

the muscle of an always-rotting
room, to where we have forgotten sleep

& begin with the eye in death as a song,
with seam different than the lip,
that draws its heat from a hinge in the sun.

11/29/2003

Posted on 01/15/2003
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