“This language is laden with future catastrophes.”
You may regret the death of the father—
out of the silence: he makes his noises
over black clouds of dust; negative space
increases the inner negative space.
“Today is as good as any other day
to hunt the black deer with this gold arrow,”
he said in a way, in a furtive room.
He said, “the devil’s inside the lonely
sanctuary” with several screaming stones—
“I wasn’t the fire: I gained nothing.”