Beyond the traceries of the auroras,
The fires of tattered sea foam,
The ghost-terrain of submerged icebergs;
Beyond a cinder dome's black sands,
...
The wasp's paper nest hung all winter.
Sun, angled in low and oblique,
Backlit—with cold fever—the dull lantern.
...
One does not turn to the rose for shade, nor the charred song of the
redwing for solace.
This past I patch with words is a flaw in the silvering,
memory seen
...
An arctic, oblique light—
Grave, earthward—
Roughs in a snowfield's scoured basin,
...
In the movement toward disappearance,
She is pulled by an undertow of ecstasy.
She wakes in a room where she never fell asleep.
A thousand starlings leaf-out a bare tree.
...
1. Confederate Dead behind a Stone Wall at Fredericksburg, Virginia
Where the glass negative broke:
A silky, liquid black,
...