“… and the signs he made to her.” p.1(&2)
like his questions, continued in silence, but he had said:
“I will go on…”
in the beginning, however brutishly
and yet she never raised his voice
above verse, locking the river
inside his running, where stagnant
questions bank up. He knew ‘how’ in the sonic sense
just as the room was a barrier to him being in it,
because its length continued, as when he
had unendingly danced or paced, how the room’s
emptiness recurred as she ceaselessly
stared at a slanting instant full of dew-point consonants
and library book must: the fermented pages
numbering less than oNe even if counted backwards.
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