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moments you invent and dread - when you think you want a long
stretched and clear landscape of trees and rocks - and a sense
of you as singular and empty. some wind blows against you, you,
in this grayness feel thin, alive, (fear disappears. here
again - anticipations, the psycho logical where they look
for you (and what appears to steal you away, is you, the thing
itself
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no system for chaos. they take your life away with pleasure
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abandon the scraps, the words. I haven't checked my plant
for days, the changing mutability of the rock pile (blasted
chunks.
early, I saw the bird crack the seed, the ingenious
bird. rose bush scrapes
the window. I've come to love
the wind
(and in the blurred eye catch
the funeral the bearers wait for in
laughter
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