I wanted to hear all manner of bow meets thrill
glass curl and my hand, a magnet
the bell
the timber
the green tonic
silent gold shadows or
mourn us
great green ghosts fill up the corner then move in
green ghosts fill up the
interior and keep moving in then
the space holds my hand, held me then
thin—or the mirage upon mylar—sliver of continuous momentum
all my life I have had just one
body
it thrills me to watch my life through one
dark lens, then
thrills me to become the carrier wind then hold it
black space cumbersome against the bow’s long hum and diction
black asphalt against again
black heat or green ghosts begin the journey then
the cement blocks are still where they are
they have not moved since
we took great honor in placing them by the marigold
marked the acute urgent noon with a hum
then shadow