Line to be sewn into a skirt hem

held in my mouth ever since the unraveling

 

Line beneath a bridge

for years without hope I stretched my arms into the river searching for you

 

Line to be sent to the cornfield

history is a hallway of leaves.

 

Line written for electric wires

your voice inside the no history, sitting still

 

Line for future people

inside the work, only my empty teeth

 

Line from Maharaj

Presently you are in quietude. Is it on this side of sleep or on the other side?

 

Line that cannot be read because of its darkness

impossible walk under weight of honey

away from your hands that break me in half

 

Line addressing President Lincoln

when the handle and blade are gone, what remains

of your axe?

 

Line to be run over by a lawn mower

afraid of everything and to be of no use.

 

Line for a distant midnight dog-pack

because I can never speak it

 

Line to be sewn into a shirt collar

the streak of your finger across the hood of the car

 

Line for a stone growing old

a sunburst that lands inside a flower

 

Line written only with your mouth

desire is a trick ghost

 

Line for the garden weeds

slowly I am nearer to you

 

Line describing the better qualities of monsters

are we afraid of what we wished for?

 

Three lines written for bears

inside cells, water, trees, I am meaningless

darkness and light wind like breath on fur

I carry the circling cities inside me

 

Line for a leaf blown into the hair of the Master

seeing you, I want no other life

 

Line for a mouse

to die like that, held in your hands