entities multiplied past all necessity
The silence smells of the river
and charred oxen. Yesterday I dis-
covered severe strangers, misbegotten
one became the pleasure of being
above the treeline in the grey
bouldershade that countenances
one’s becoming was divineness
their quiet. Their speechless words.
They recite that forever story—
the strange heart remote, self-conceived
— and I wither in rainy breezes
one’s being became divineness
when they fan
my solemn, long, mad blaze. I possess.
one was the madness of becoming
I’d wished for breath, a silence
magnificent, exquisite, useless,
a becoming blue blur. Yet this, this air.