there was food, drink, gladness, and ping-pong. slacklining in light snow.
there may be more air when not in boulder.
again
dear, hello
whispers seized at the glottis—
violated lexicon in fragments of parchment
floating from the apostate tower.
we recovered what we could
(scraping through the ashes for little bits:
for arrowheads and carabiner shells,
laughing at puddles of glass
and the defiled illusions of book pages)
and these fragments are the outlines
of something warm and hidden
by ostentatious mendicants
entrusted with extrapolations of history
and rahab’s commission for national defense.
hello again,
dear
blue light and offsetting warmth
are the sky
and they are the earth;
they teach us about optics—
and about light of long wavelength
igniting desiccated foothills
and about light of short wavelength
so graciously inconvenienced
to set a melancholy mood.
dear,
again hello
in each hand an essential component—
one to direct those particulate waves,
the other simply to measure them—
and i have to choose which to move forward
and which backward
with no certainty
but that only a sliver could be clear
at any given moment.
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