Notes No. 1

The new sun is only able
to clear a partial afternoon,
and heard in the lines that

would extend to roughage
of the other planes, as a
sitting in what is falling

again from the trapdoors
which couldn’t have landed
anywhere. Past conclusion,

as a consent barely found
in a place as contrast was, is
in all the creasing of passing

clouds and misstated conjecture
found as a plethora of vision
from the children. The horses

that are configured for
a sky of meadow unsought
and displayed with origami,

over and over as these
that dawdle fidelity. Not
a course of years. A timber

broken from what presently
matters then, like when her
voice became lined with silver.

1 comment:

mark said...

like the sound of this