229.
But from its top I can behold the sea
across the street our little stream
in spate she said
ironies and departures
you know how to get here start from
here
a little movement in the leaves says
I’m alive
everything I give you is a sign
this’m is the blank sign
carry it with you till rain or sun
shadows the blankness with messages
then think they come from me
who have nothing else to give you
just one word after the last
word.
230.
Pause in the middle of meaning and
mean something else
there is no road or rule just
treefrogs singing
just blue sky gleaming through dense
green leaves
everything is an interruption
the newborn innocent screaming
a day red in the face angry at
wordless men
they try their ruler games but
weather is god
I’m not saying I’m just saying
if this is not me talking then who
are you
from the torn purse no gold coins
spill
long low quiet run of Avenue R
civilization is built on personal discomfort.
