The sign itself is shab you need, blue neon half-circling
a curvy silhouette. And rain spilling the gutters
seems the perfect stage effect.

who glimpses
the dead without shuddering?

Confused bear cocked back on a haunch,
artist’s blundering arms frozen toward embrace 

Kicking through woods and fields, I’d spooked several
and once stepped on a coachwhip among gravestones,
at least one garter curled like a bow

As a barrier against mosquitoes,
I pull an old sheet from the closet
and cross the yard,

I am in a temple or maybe it’s a sweltering 
summer camp lodge type, of a room.

        Have too many cats...

steam rises under my hand
from a lovely coffee cup
cracked like the wall of an orphanage

The night has made the apple tree a scent,
A motion in my ear, as if delight
Ever so softly trembled in decline.

   O depth sufficient to desire, 
Ghostly abyss wherein perfection hides, 
   Purest effect and cause, you are 

She never knew the brittle rose would wake
    The far-off dormant egypt of its day
That she entombed; spring gave, autumn would take