321.
A troll is not a little thing it’s a living
stone
a stone that knows how to move
a stone with hands and only the huldra tames him
or so I read in a book I wrote
I found it on my phone faces made of
shadows
light itself is made of their soft
fur
they’re all around us their breath
the thunder
all summer I’ve been translating from
the birds
now who will be my dragoman
and guide you cleanly through my
cloying text?
it’s done already! you’ve read and
understood!
what else is there to tell but the
sound of it?
322.
All that’s missing is the rain of
gold
on Danae’s spread self, the blue
flower
clinging to your fingertips the crow
calling loud
right overhead to tell me what’s what
the time has come he says kairos
like a glee or a gospel anything you
choose
long as it has a tune in it
the watchman on the roof stirs in his
sleep
the trees wake up and tremble at that
song
you wear your clothes woven from the
stars
I know who you are but with all
my talk that’s the one word I won’t
say.
