Sealed into the cocoon
Of light and water, face
And racked reflection, voice

Blast of harsh
flat sunlight

on recalcitrant ground

“Believing something will happen 
        Because I don’t want it to 
And that some other thing won’t 

      Those silly seagulls up in the sky over there remind me of

      A particular local postcard of many seagulls in the sky thatcould go on and on forever were it not for the edges

This is St. Rafael resigning from the service
Of the mad white queen. St. Rafael is no angel.
But Queen makes comparison possible

Pres spoke in a language
“of his own.” What did he say, between the
horn line

The deep water in the travel poster finds me 
In the change as I was about to back away 
From the idea of the comedy around us— 

If a man steals his neighbor’s shoes, he must
guard them day and night. He must not sleep.
He must try and eat them.

The only tall trees are on islands. Autumn
fires keep the land clear—The river
suddenly went slippery and jade. On its banks

From the frank rendering of the sock
to the foot and the hem released
of its fold, with scent marking