#johnashberry

Sometimes a word will start it, like Hands and feet, sun and gloves. The way Is fraught with danger, you say, and I Notice the word “fraught” as you are telling Me about huge secret valleys some distance from The mired fighting – “but always, lightly wooded As they are, more deeply involved with the outcome That will someday paste a black, bleeding label In the sky, but until then The echo, flowering freely in corridors, alleys, And tame, surprised places far from anywhere, Will be automatically locked out – vox Clamans – do you see? End of tomorrow. Don’t try to start the car or look deeper Into the eternal wimpling of the sky: luster On luster, transparency floated onto the topmost layer Until the whole thing overflows like a silver Wedding cake or Christmas tree, in a cascade of tears.”

Go presently you said. Go from my window. I am in love with your window I cannot undermine it, I said.