I post the sign
late in spring
drawn on sewn skins

I hugged myself
and it changed my aerodynamics.
I began spinning out of control.

These were your sighs,
your toss,
the listing yoke

Nothing moves.
There is an amazing silence.
I become large and bored with sitting here.

I could not speak the name of the place,
the stone building that gave
more silence to the field.

In a field of broken antlers, 
I’m holy
as the grass 

I don’t give
a pound of
mule mucous

I give up:
I bleed I must know.
Grant me the

Although it is noon or roughly so, the church below is
   positioned like an hour hand 
at eleven o’clock, 

What else is there to do but watch carefully for any noticeable
   movement by a statue
of a past hero,