lxx

let the kitchen constrain
the baseboards limn
the function--

I swear I am falling

let the seconds gasp
heavily, the minutes
slow, sluggish

I swear I am falling
through the floorboards

unexpected, unwanted

for these few hours--
I am free

unwarranted, unexpected
unwanted, still--

I swear I am falling, the
cannon rolls, and

the windows shake my
reflection, I hear a roar
through the crack,

in the glass

a war deferred, still, I do
not believe--I have faith

in the roar, and the roll
far off, I believe

in the horror, the crowd,
the seconds delineate,

unwanted, unexpected, unwarranted
I am free for just this one moment,

I believe, in this one moment,
unwanted, I believe

I am falling, in just this one moment,
the baseboard limn, the windows
constrain--

reflection, the kitchen limns, I believe
I am falling--

lxxi

seizes the night, and lets it
go--surely

the moon, over the hills,
holding, if

the street widened, fell
momentarily,

I would walk, tired and
aching,

below the shadow of that
light, leading

(the bamboo hums)

I would shudder, by the
large window, shuddering

in the window, towards the
the light falling

(the bamboo gasps, falls
forward, rustles)

across the walk, I would lay
below the balcony,

(hisses, whispers, rustles
carries tongues, through the
fence)

I would rest, the morning light
blank, across the empty
carpet--I would lay

under the breeze

(falls and flaps, whistles,
and sags forward)

the vague buzz of morning,
the gate creaks,

breaks the leaves, against
the cement

I would fall, lay,
sleep,

(stands still, maybe gleaming,
the sunlight utters nothing)

even in the face of footfalls, if
I could sleep, once

more (rustles, shudders, hisses
rustles, falls still), the light
blinding, still--

xxxxxxx.

the shards fall
into the sage,

among the brittle
twigs,

the dust, and night
settle, the wire,

sunders the hillside
the sun sinks,

from the line,
the hawk flies

shadow falls across
the lower slopes

and into the valley
over the freeway

the glow wells over
the peaks, the

streams over the houses

sets the wash ablaze

xxxxxxviii.

the silence--if
rose, softened in the dark

the sharp crack, the wind
in the succulents,

hiss and fall, the spray
held in the air, if

the gravel held, momentarily,
sloped and snaked,

and the cliffs sharp, the moon
bright,

between, leading down,
the road still--

the dawn rise slow, the
shuddering leaves

xxxxxxvii.

it's not for me this sort of thing
what you say,

what I saw--I see the light
flare, on the sill

the sky flares in the round,
in the point--

it's not for me what you saw,
what I see--

I hear the scrape on the ground
of your feet, it's not

for me, where you go--not
for me what I hear

it's not for me but I hear
the crickets click

I see the walls crack, I see
the grass brown,

the roots crack, what I see
foundation, dust

I see the sun paint the broken
windows--I say

I--see, not for me, I go
just,

not for me, I
hear not for me

I go

transpiration

the cracked earth,
yellow weeds--waving
dry,

cut the sky, cast it
in the dust,

remember, when it
would race,

rush, cold--carry
peak to valley

leave remnants of
its reification,
pooled in their roots

the pasture dreams,

beneath the banks
the river darts
between the rocks

seeps upwards
rises,

is taken, unfinished
upwards,

promises to come again

aquifer

for the time,
all things might wait,

for we gather, in the lip
of fallen mountain, a

valley, broken by dirt--

wait, gathered
below,

(love--that last,
that least--)

absorb, unwilling, what
lies beneath us,

let someone's folly,
raise us,

free

of any legacy, forget
below--forget

to carry--

the cost of chance, the
cost of rest, of peace,

if we rise.