Language is judgement, Nac said
was wrong what he did.
I may have agreed once – but – now -
I have no balance
survey with eyes of inward glory,
immoral moral mouth
to sup with. I see things differently.
the astrologer predict his own
Does it matter?
it matter here in infinity, in the
looking in, seeing
the repetition, the boundless-ness
globe and cyclic flow.
was wrong -
brighter speck of litness and silence, Venus,
the star-shot night, plays attendance,
on a giant clip of moon, rocked to one side.
unaware of the other – their proximity only
our eyes, our vision
silence is proximity, with games run
going into nowhere. It
not wrong what she did. She did what
did for closeness, to touch. Your escape
to her – she found time and scope in it –
she looked away and turned back. It
not wrong what she did.
now, perhaps, without scales, precision
stares into the lit screen, finding
and stories, trying to forget and