from Live from the Woodley Park Marriott, Washington, DC

                After my escape I wander along the margins,

                a damp pistol heart. Drink says the voice
                stepping out and out, drink to the edge

                of your ribs, my little Tantalus.

                                                        The negligence of an ordinary
                                                        day, lifting it into your mind
                                                        until it disappears, is still ordinary.

                                The window is high up,
                                almost out of sight, more
                                and more is the light
                                blown out of the world’s
                                fenestration,

                          a fatalistic espionage.

Notice how I have risen to the tree tops, notice the views when the lungs give out:

                                                small and thrown as any yellow light

                                                                birding light

                                                                bird timing yellow

                                                                yellow birding time

                                                                bird thrown worlds