NEWLY MADE, GIVE OR TAKE

Letter to Edith


A light went off just now. Not the light 
    of an idea        above my head, but a 
literal                light - a bulb
The wiring             in this 
wayward farmhouse is shabby


Almost made it, someone once told me. 
The words     hung secluded        in blue air 
in such awful           trembling manner    as to
suggest         complicity          with pale
leaves           turned over   in
winds         below     humid thunder

They are small           unanchored
praises         sung by crows    and
tyrants       who     rule by tantrum and
proclaim          wood from the pine
works best