delineation

this morning the sky is pale a minor with a hint of cream
lint clouds waiting for a hand to wipe them, whipped
in a froth of leavetaking.

falling away is always, moments drop
into a pond, ducks skim the surface.
only the surface can be skimmed.


silence is full --
a paucity
in the pause.


will and fair meet in a glass hovel
the walls are cold or warm
depending on the weather.
floor of crushed ice.
floor of featherbed.


this morning the curse is stone
become sand. say goodbye
to that mountain.
face blown away.