There is no sound at all on this wild upland.
The horses have stopped falling
in their great arc through the air.
The panic that carried their necks over the crag
became, early on, in their legs, regret.
The dark knowing that spoils the morning
Clover fills the darkness quickly,
splitting open, spreading.
It's a slightly different planet
that surrounds the same night,
an unction in the sun
that spins the Earth faster—
the couple pulls apart, turning hostile,
her body taking off into the w [...]
Wind is omen;
omen does things to the trees,
their dream of rescue fading.
Omen loves that moment, that No,
when the whole life leans
and the cruelty turns definite:
her arms fall away,
saying simply, Get me.
And omen, unknown attractor,
keeps pulli [...]