Tuesday, September 29, 2015
The yelling
always sounds to us
as if it comes from
everywhere
Where molecules of water took
dictation from the cold
between the stars, crystals
in the lower margin looked
like characters in Arabic,
cuneiform, and Mandarin, six-point,
a smattering of chaos somebody
with better eyes might read.
However bundled we went out, we felt
the cold when we had entered it
begin to enter us. Misunderstanding
circumstantiates the world.
Brooks Haxton
They Lift their Wings
to Cry
Poems
Bedroom Window
Crusted Thick with Ice
op. cit.
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