Tuesday, September 29, 2015

The yelling

always sounds to us
as if it comes from

   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
Bedroom Window 
  Crusted Thick with Ice
op. cit.

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