Contributors

Followers

Tuesday, December 26, 2006





Rilke's Death from development, of angels, welkin reminders, of what might have been, here, among other valleys' roots like magma, poured spirit one and then another; furious angels! invisible, whose arms illuminate the night harrowed from animals wounded, animals dying; among all orders, a command. With what might one counter the thin edge of the Real?; with what countenance?; with what countenance will Any listen? Multiples move, among multitudes; crossed by elk, by deer, by wolves, kestrel-binding holding fields (these wait for No One)

What hovers, soars (these move for No One)

No comments: