What's What
So what when serpents have heard us they coil up
To dry by the time that the desert is falling
Into the night light of daytime eroding
With glaciers unwinding at finding the crux.
Then what encumbers the mantle to ravel
From gravel the planet to spin up its spirit
As near as the season is pleasing to stroll in
In little but living the image as such.
For what is given the timorous whistle
To tremble in embers the size of the wilds
That grind from the marrow the malleable moment
And freeze it completely in seeds come apart.
And what emotion can cry in the cupboard
To lie to a husband in saucerful curtsies
Out of the slaving affection of tyrants
As waiting containment to shut up and start.