Poetry

Admit coming upon the fallen horse at evening,
now asleep but withered, now reducing as you near, now

We have gone through
so many revisions of the prelude
that we no longer know

The need to be heard does not change,
the need to get close. Again we tear
our request, scatter it across the grave.

[…]

Having made the maze of cartons, bins,
and scales, he moves, aproned, unseen among them,
the architectures his to build and rebuild

You know how certain singers turn words
into sounds, keeping only the tune?

[…]