Light the first light of evening, as in a room
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.
This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous.
It is in that thought that we collect ourselves,
Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:
Within a single thing, a single shawl
Wrapped tightly round us, since we are poor, a warmth,
A light, a power, the miraculous influence.
Here, now, we forget each other and ourselves.
We feel the obscurity of an order, a whole,
A knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous.
Within its vital boundary, in the mind.
We say God and the imagination are one…
How high that highest candle lights the dark.
Out of this same light, out of the central mind,
We make a dwelling in the evening air,
In which being there together is enough.
Standing in her house today all I could think of was whether she took a shit every
or ever fucked anybody
or ever fucked
singing herself to sleep
You want these sorts of things for people
the earth inside
Instead of white
nightgowns and terrifying
Here she comes
her hands out in front of her
like a child flying
above its bed
Her ankles and wrists held tightly between the fingers of some brightly lit parent home
from a party
Singing “Here I come!”
Her legs pumping
Heaven is everywhere
but there’s still
The world is made out of cancer, house fires, and Brain Death, here in America
But I love the world
to the rescue
I used to think we were made of bread
gentle work and
but we’re still beautiful
killing each other as much as we can
beneath the pines
The pines that are somebody’s
All night I flew the dark recess of God’s mind.
It was arranged like Iowa fields–
not a damn thing missing.
You ask how I survived.
I lived on a message, broad light
at the end of the world.
Words, they have so much in common with departure,
the clouds elliptical & nervous.
Why translate? It’s just a revolving door.
“Chill wind” has seven
components. One is loss.