giga2f

Out of the road into a way across
As if your absence now concluded long ago.
Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
with visors. Their brave recreational vehicles
Would their world not remain comfortably
I know,
What? What can you do?
Rain. We are forced to fly,
To reach out into its own vanishing
giddy as good kids playing hookey. Now,
Silence. Your way of being. Your way of seeing
Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce
And Mère Chose's square of world, even as they
This third day of our January thaw,
I know,
Of a far barn, just where the road curves sharply
Silence, are in his hand—birds in a snare;
and the numbed yards will go back undercover.
Life, or only joy, that stands out