Corner Piece and Cog-Wheel

Combine that which I don’t have

with the groove the needle rests in.

Then I am nearer & no longer listening—

as much as to say my mien is joyous,

my amazement a fast-gone thought—

water pouring from the watering can

in a dispensation of arc—

first to author one crocus bud.


           “O littlest tears in the petal, still you are not

           enough for death, still unredeemed / The fight

           of this flower a still thing I cannot argue

           with. / Empty you carefully, press you back in

           with thumb & equal pressure. / I circle in

           the volume that fills an empty room /

           until one fills it up: fat health, a careful

           number / among which May is merry”


The goal of our play is not to descend—

what can one say more briefly

in order to be

than follow?

Certainly, cycle out of hell, out of purgatory—

nothing is more circular.