After your death.
It was windy every day.
Opposed us like a wall.
Shouting sideways at one another.
Along the road.
It was useless.
The spaces between us.
They are empty spaces.
And yet they are solid.
And black and grievous.
As gaps between the teeth.
Of an old woman.
You knew years ago.
When she was.
Beautiful the nerves pouring around in her like palace fire.
She ran in.
Down her back.
Town of the Sound of a Twig Breaking
Their faces I thought were knives.
The way they pointed them at me.
A hunter is someone who listens.
So hard to his prey it pulls the weapon.
Out of his hand and impales.
Town of Spring Once Again
"Spring is always like what it used
Said an old Chinese man.
Rain hissed down the windows.
Longings from a great distance.
Hanging on the daylight black.
As an overcoat with no man in it one cold bright.
Noon the Demander was waiting for me.
Town on the Way through God's Woods
Have you ever seen woods so.
Every tree a word does your heart stop?
Once I saw a cloud over Bolivia so deep.
Mountains were cowering do you ever?
Look in so quick you see the secret.
Word inside the word?
As in an abandoned railway car.
One winter afternoon I saw.
The word for "God's woods."
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