we were afraid to mention tears
and the tear upward, each numbers of our bodies ajar
tongue – deficient
I looked into the ear – door
was each stone in the West shot through with silver?
(It was the little shock in the stream, enough
metal to weigh down a mule)
we were curious, coureurs du bois
with a de resurrectione carnis under the table
I wrote:
Dear Alice
Won’t we get to whistle in heaven?
…
pg. 5, THE POST APOLLO PRESS, 1997
…the past and the future run through the body of this work like streams flowing
mysteriously through words or rivers – slipping between atoms…
– Peter Gizzi
Library of Congress Cataloging -in- Publication Data