the unnamed letters in the alphabet of atonement; / the bright curve that highlights shadow, and equally / the shadow that shows us the lineaments of light;
I am fine by daylight. Nighttime / brings the raccoons’ nest / / ripped from its high wedge
Hurts you, doesn’t it? Every last thing. / Those endings. Each page, a paper cut. / / Godx is nearer than you can imagine. / Godx is never close enough.
Can you put your hands around me like a muffler, season of grapes soaking in oak, season of crows, season of your husked voice whispering across the sheets, are you naked? Will you touch me first?
I put my faith in algebra. / And Wallace Stevens, of course, / / his quantum heresies, his dominion, / coffee and oranges
