a stony path into the blue room. “Weep and wail” to quote St. James
merely a corner of the world with no red chairs
bending slightly in the right knee to give a shape to the heat
forgot to lose my head among the thistles and windless Fridays
one ear for Josquin’s In Te Domine Speravi and one for housing the rain
in its corner the shadow hardly registers on the introspectrometer
if by touch you moved the North to the South and tipped over a cricket