And when you are finally caught and questioned,
it is discovered, sadly, that you know

For the sightless, shapeless hope is vision,
cast back by the long thrower like a discus,
heavy like a discus, ridged, impacted.

In this book birds are taught their flying
by that which would make them fall
were they not to fly as had been taught.

Harsh orange, dull burn
of realization.

My mother was glamorous in a way I knew I 
never would be. Velvet belt buckle. Mascara 
lash. Miniature crimson lipstick living in the 

Let us console you. 
Music’s the answer. 
Of course, we’re caught 

Now I’m an archivist. Indexer of everywhere 
I have ever been. Of every ­moment I stood 
there and there. Of where I was when I was 

God’s nose-end,
White nothing tower,
White-bearded, socketed face.

Night is when I give you new clothes.

Little liquor-drink umbrellas drowse
At the margin of the mouth hole,
The moon eye, an open coronal