Poem 1979 (7)

 

When day returns

 

When day returns
like something never reached
aflame on the air
patterned in darkness
behind scorched eyes
or a fist against some tree
nails scratching digits
through lichen dust
such place sufficient
much as anywhere
for losing the attempt
grappling with focus
that cannot resolve an object
due to material
in its form
and this quiet
another kind of voice
always unfinished
when day returns.

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