Far below our lab
Two doom-planes are about to bump.

Because cemeteries are too pricey
I would like to be deposited on a public bench
and not in the earth

In Anderlecht, the Maison d’Erasme
sits in an elegant courtyard as if
withdrawn from the vulgar world—concedo

I have dreamt a dream of fulfillment, of freedom:
she was an old woman, with a face like the moon,
first full with reflection, then new and dark, and then

Toenail, bracket, header, joist and brace—
words nailed into place

“From Mohammed, the Servant and Prophet of Allah,
    to Muqavas, Leader of the Copts: There is
safety and security for those believers who

The woman sits before a glass of wine
as if a talisman or offering
to the genius of the place.

Above, the red clay cliff, and above that,
a fringe of scrub grass and the overall sky.
Propped against great stones, boulders with ledges

Questioner:      By now, everyone has a grievance
                               honed to a nice point by the abrasions
                               of long acquaintance. Are we stuck?

We are hollowed out by death, as by life.
How many moments to balance the weight
of forgetfulness—that knowingness which