Risky to say anything but you
you alone, lady calling it the sea
when what you meant was sky’s feet in that
lower medium
as you found names for your nature there.
Being in the difference of perspectives,
the perceptible shellac, you call by the wrong name, the sea, always
wrong word
going its own way; the fish no longer
investigate us
we still don’t know what music is: a beached whale,
some foreign town peering in through the window;
it’s music that investigates us
outfitted.
The way I slipped into you under the cloak of a sympathizer,
for christsake don’t listen to Them.
Don’t look at my heraldry! The eagles I spat up there
a mean old man spitting on my window at the foe who feels it
on the street. Don’t weary yourself with the shadows looked on
by the thankful sun.
Don’t look! but hear the shadows of rocks cascade in the folded air
hear what clothes itself in sound, as your car glides through
this elsewhere fog. This elsewhere car! this thick mist
of foreignness refracted from the smallest things
aletheia, truth
not escaping notice
needing only to be seen! is all the elsewhere
of earthly appointment. Until the fog so thick
you step out of the car and take in its actual substance.
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