There are two. Plum, date, vent,
lung. Wasn’t there everything I wanted. Wasn’t there everything there. Apex with smoke,garments with ink, once, twice, go,
fig: wasn’t there black foil, eyes
isn’t it enough, to look out on a day with black foil eyes
When the panels on the roof stopped glinting it was revealed to me
that they were never there. And a duct opens:acid pour through the hewing machine binds our apex
with smoke, garments with ink: our homes face each other. Palm-sized birds
flutter in the yard then stop.
<crackle when this happens, crust over paradise, cloud>
Nearby, several knots come undone, the synchronous known world loosening in
blue lucent bullets
some architect, some keel Are these silhouettes
you can feel. Do I see the calmness off the edge.
Do I empty my arms of the heights. Do I ignore
the business of budding by my feet, cold, cold, the reason whyI am cold, the frame is then a
spray like green What architectures are there
that pass you by, can you love a circle, can you love a slant, does the sun touch these still
and is this okay, there is an eyelash on my plate but I eat it anyway and don’t tell
All the flutists line up and play the same note: that, that,
was a lake lapping at the black