xxiii

DEFINITIONS XXIII

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A lady learning her left: hand on the piano; unburnish the mirror, said the voice as concerning rocks or trees. Can you wash them disconcerting again?

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The stone chimes gave you away you were crushing ants, the contents of the world: but what happened when you listened again; had the chimes begun to snow?

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Quartz you put to your forehead don’t eat it said the voice: mother where you least expect her, saying no to what you didn’t know you were thinking; but you do it anyway. Is this what they call sleep, this feast of citrine and softest carnelian? 

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Call it what you will I’ll find you it’s opposite: is there one thing we haven’t named you ask; just as the stranger in from the rain pries up your own name, did you see it under there; soundless, scentless, colorless, hurrying material of everywhere?

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Just you and I and a nameless sky breaking through the shore: our rigorous hands undoing the confusion, making; is that what they call this ship, with nothing but yearning in it?