AUGUST, 2005

But I'm trying hard to know what

is meant when we claim O silent night

a night like this, when blown out is all

the blaze of the sky but not heat, not

dampness either, not even that star, alone,

like a crack in the firmament (in the levees)

and what floods in, because only it can,

is a light to make light of until we can't—

then a breeze passes, with its humanlike

moan, since it's human I can know it, I hear it,

as I do the magnolia-shudder, the bird

-scatter, as I do the river: can't you hear it

singing far off—?

Then not as far—?