Lention
Believing love comes only toward perfect beings,
I, knowing myself imperfect,
thought all who loved me fools
Or else myself a thief.
Anadiplosis
Sharp night on a body
my moon in the sheer night
the body in a clear moon
with brown buildings in white light
I Am The Instrument
I am the key, the key button, action bracket,
Jack and let-off rail; sostenuto rod, ivory,
Back-check, hammer-rest and repetition lever
The Sun: Helium
Morning, multiplex loam blooming
in round billows awash through mind;
Phæton tiding in cool dawn; as his wave
broadens its surge, its deep
The Beginning
I speak of the previous person
Whose hands these are, and whose eyes;
Whose cares and whose coffins core these phrases
Whose black-wheeler braked in sidetrack,
Stropped the line where spun a seer’s death
Lines Found in Montgomery Woods, December 31, 2010
What was
What was between you and me
What wasn’t
What wasn’t between you and me