song 6

a.
Winter’s a billion pencils writing secretly
About the latency of life,
What’s invisible is next
She tasted, smelled felt everything as if it were text

Ample woods. Not far from here it’s nearly silent
Ligature alphabet
Disciplined, prior to speech, or meaning before it’s meant

Write secretly
Growing lean. Put mass in jars, a jam of gravity
Stars learn their way out of formation very slowly
Not my fault the way these springs begin

b.
We used to take hikes, ample woods
Sensing us as if we were real
Taste, touch, smell, heal
Coiled fern, lightning-torn trunk, store tenses
The soft rhyme of the romance languages
Stars come into and leave formation slowly
Boil the weight of waiting; a jam of gravity

Forest is a process of breaking open,
The destruction of a mica wall

Winter light coiling open – a child you are telling to share
Missing the missing is a soft rhyme, translating there to here
My husband’s gardening hat – band sweated through
My darling, your pain: that’s me recognizing you

Here’s winter letting us in
Not my fault the way these springs begin

c.
Winter’s a billion pencils write secretly
About latency
Hiking in recollection is a lasting hole in gravity
The severity of intuition, resurrection
Illuminated mica, a mica built pane…
Young plants curl in alphabet innocence
Hiking is gravity, in bearing load and absence
Tight then loose
If you walk down language like stairs
Living with its material use
You never will get deeper than the logging road
Missing the missing:
The soft rhyme between.
In and out of time

My husband’s gardening hat – band sweated through
My darling, your hat: I recognize you

Here’s winter letting us in
Hikers grown thin

d.
Don’t say.
Confess.
No use of sense
Unless
Your walk down the stars is a perfect hole in gravity
Not getting anywhere, you get the quality
Of anywhere by only ever being briefly
Somewhere, slipping to the next
She tastes she feels everything as if it were text.
Stars lean their way out of formation very slowly
Write secretly
Boil a jam of gravity

e.
To reveal: estrange
Replace a point of view.
Intermediate, and the infinite gloss.
The use of sense: a traveling loss.
Moderate climb, up with what language does;
You are about to mean.

Mackled sound; sense, relenting;
Absence is nuance,
In this case – innocence.
Winter’s greed is slow, repenting,
The pain of letting us in.

My husband’s gardening hat – band sweat through
My darling, your hat: I recognize you

f.
Winter’s billion pencils write secretly
About latency
Active where it’s broken
Intermediate climb
You get the quality of anywhere
By only ever being somewhere
Always briefly

Mackling. Growing lean.
Ligature alphabet
Disciplined, prior to speech, or meaning before it’s meant
Boil the work and put up jars
A jam of gravity

g.
The right power
Out of center
Not far from here
A slow walk up the hill
Taste, touch, smell, heal
God-composed, the woods’ intuitive reveal
Speaking to the active edge of sense
Absence is nuance
Not far from silence

Stars forming and leaving, slowly
Morning
Boil the waiting; a jam of gravity

h.
Je revois la ville en fête et en délire
Walking the translation from there to here
Where winter, pencil thin
Writes
White on white
We used to take hikes
Ample woods sensing us as if we were real
Don’t say; reveal
Touch taste smell tendrilous nuance
Un nœud de la croissance
Forest is a process, breaking open
An idea leaves itself to be spoken

prime
Winter’s billion pencils write secretly
About latency
What’s invisible is next
She tastes she feels everything as if it were text
Stars lean out of formation very slowly
Write secretly
Boil a jam of gravity

Forest is a breaking open
An idea leaves itself to be spoken
Coiled fern, lightning-torn trunk, store tenses
The soft rhyme of the romance languages

My husband’s gardening hat – band sweat through
My darling, your hat: I recognize you

Here’s winter letting us in
Not my fault the way these springs begin.

Missing the missing is a soft rhyme, translating there to here
If you walk up language like stairs
Living with its material use
You never will get deeper than the logging road

Here’s winter letting us in
Hikers grown thin

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