Alba

Here there is no accompaniment
A wheel has rusted a fist to the wind

I take down my stone name
and finally put it in a chalky drawer

Its trees are all on fire
but only at the very tops

Fire will not come down the ladder again

A fog rests on the empty lush field

The green feeling is of      a chance without a chancer

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Blue Itself

Thinking back before you?
It’s like turning my mind
back before

blue itself.

Ere blue,
it is impossible to be.
The sea above

was there. A quai.
I was launched.
My eyes undone.

The thought of open
and you were there

at once,

a priori.

A blue mind of lion,

a fury

like a pencil

in a hospital.