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.