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Preludes
Thrown from the wheel
New one among the oldest, blink – the desk clerk is there
His lamp the only inside
Of a vast concentration of innocence.
It grows It is growing
Noise-height
A vigil of white without grammar
The window would not write the letter
Bright freezing morning raced hinterward
on an elsewhere train. In the village museum
black lines scored themselves exactly mortally
no people came. They scored themselves
as wooden walls; walls smell alive.
Later in moonfield thoughts would die
becoming root systems
delicate emphatic and furthest without audience:
Remembrance of a day
No it was all night
Or was it all grey
Stomping his boots.
Behind the sky is a very small crank
And a very poor man who turns it
And before a man walking alone
Alone she asked in a language not her own
As the marionette turned into twilight
Is it very expensive? And it is.
Come here is the point, to the clock in the square
The office of time, the intervalled sphere
And they all of them did
For a day or two, for a day and a night,
For an ever
Far more.
It would be
so easy and good
to swallow
the cathedral hollow, and take
the stained-glass shards for
flecks of keener sight
who know the smallest elements whole:
story, will
Before the cathedral fills with snow.
New one among the oldest, blink – the desk clerk is there
His lamp the only inside
Of a vast concentration of innocence.
It grows It is growing
Noise-height
A vigil of white without grammar
The window would not write the letter
Bright freezing morning raced hinterward
on an elsewhere train. In the village museum
black lines scored themselves exactly mortally
no people came. They scored themselves
as wooden walls; walls smell alive.
Later in moonfield thoughts would die
becoming root systems
delicate emphatic and furthest without audience:
Remembrance of a day
No it was all night
Or was it all grey
Stomping his boots.
Behind the sky is a very small crank
And a very poor man who turns it
And before a man walking alone
Alone she asked in a language not her own
As the marionette turned into twilight
Is it very expensive? And it is.
Come here is the point, to the clock in the square
The office of time, the intervalled sphere
And they all of them did
For a day or two, for a day and a night,
For an ever
Far more.
It would be
so easy and good
to swallow
the cathedral hollow, and take
the stained-glass shards for
flecks of keener sight
who know the smallest elements whole:
story, will
Before the cathedral fills with snow.
Posted 03/20/09