For Peter O’Leary

1.

When pendant forms fall,
and the wind describes a line,

forms follow.

Smoke’s own
common cause is clear,

is law.

Skin covers bone as
smoke fills the form –

law leaves

one meaning
for the yolk

or none:

death,
or the origin of

the wren.

 

 

2.

High pine, sycamore,
         and sweetgum
                  tree –

outward goes hope
         for recognition,
                  familiarity –

something stirs
         in the black-cherry
                  tree –

and we only see
         what we prepare
                  to see.
 

 

3.

Gratuitous the air
beside, between
my objects.

Darkness –
behind, alive –
surrounds the stars.

There is one
story of the sun,
another story

of the moon.
And another
still of stars, though

one star
differs from another
in glory.

Stars move
from the coast
to open sea

and become
unrelative
to me

but exist and rage
over depths
of water, east –

I’m about
         small things.