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when the shadows fall in ripples, when the medium I work in is deathless and I’m living inside one great example of stubbornness as my head is stoved in by a glance, as the day’s silver-tipped buds sway in union, waving to the corporate sky when I said work and meant lyric when I thought I was done with the poem as a vehicle to understand violence I thought I was done with the high-toned shitty world done with the voice and its constituent pap call down the inherited phenomenal world when it’s raining in the book, lost to the world in an abundance of world like listening to a violin when the figure isn’t native but the emotion is 10
page 13
when everything is snow and what lies ahead is a mesmer’s twirling locket  I thought I was done with the marvel of ephemeral shadow play, the great design and all that I thought I was done with time, its theatricality, glamour, and guff gusting cloud, I see you, I become you in my solitary thinging, here in partial light when I said voice, I meant the whole unholy grain of it, it felt like paradise meaning rises and sets, now a hunter overhead now a bear at the pole and the sound of names the parade of names 11

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when the shadows fall in ripples, when the medium I work in is deathless and I’m living inside one great example of stubbornness as my head is stoved in by a glance, as the day’s silver-tipped buds sway in union, waving to the corporate sky when I said work and meant lyric when I thought I was done with the poem as a vehicle to understand violence I thought I was done with the high-toned shitty world done with the voice and its constituent pap call down the inherited phenomenal world when it’s raining in the book, lost to the world in an abundance of world like listening to a violin when the figure isn’t native but the emotion is

10

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