6.
A chaos stood upright
in the struggle of man
with sticks. The chaos,
gas, purified within
things liable to change.
Lives of their own
held briefly by the fall
of evening air.
The crepuscule
when everything’s the same
temperature as the soul.
Words are worked
into the sentence that
absorbs us into its
pretend structure, calm
apples and tablecloths
on their way to the moon
teach us again to be naked.
A naked man watching
his children play.
The moon and the stars,
no one is wiser for their names.
no one is wiser for their names.
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