/ (untitled cento) (2-8-23)


The pattern goes back and forth between two notes.

Place more than mind, and place more than people.


Eyes after walking through the desert and being driven back again,

I become more and more where I am, the rhythm and way of the walking, lost in the way, the

road and all that is off the road, going slowly, in time, in step with the land.

Or walking forever; the gait has its own thought.


What is it I ought to give up?

The past and the present.

What did you see first?

Welcomed, alluring, malicious, I love you


I listened to the rain. Then rain in the morning, rain in the weeks after that.


It’s funny.

So near my face and so violent

Always to the left, to the left

The canals that carry sound