No People in It

for JA I flutter in order to enter the phrase’s silver. Jackdaws have launched nearby this time, silk green and ripped, the movement a kind of chafing thinking. Oh he’s marking terrain right there— right there with his unmade song. The shadow kids whip fronds, froth air up into heat, pure and simple “violence of the eye.” Wild iris ink, wet in the margin’s stage. Well, hadn’t this testament begun to carry its chime in stripes? That’s when I knew he was going away from me, towards the sound. Like the ring on the table it can’t be decentered. Rim around the recent. Ashes, ashes, A bright tangled seeming.