Dusk—and the shimmer on the sea
has quickened and gone still. The large,
lithe Hurricane birds soar in circles

In a dream of sex & blindness,
boats grow rare on a river.

In a meteor shower which I feel but can’t see

From The Deep-Souf:
                                   “Fer nigras doan-care none;
ah lern meh erleh, nevah trus’ a one.

“Beginning at five o’clock, just before dawn rises
in the rear-view mirror, I drive at eighty, alone,
all day through Texas. I am a pencil extending

This is for you
Now that your curved wood chair
like a chair carved in Black Woods, Germany,

Anglo-Saxon Sally operates between Third and Lexington—
she makes large claims:
“Forecasts — Future — Past—Present”

The hardest part is the way the knot at the base of the neck tightens.
There’s a whole body here to hold up the head but this time
you are tired and you want to lie down. Never would a gesture

The sun is a drum
                 the moon is a cymbal 
The flow of time is caught in a cup.

Rain of the months and years we had 
known each other pressed in, printing 
the new car as we left the wedding. 

“Is it raining there?”
your voice on the phone
wondered for no reason