Listen!
DOWN THE HALL, TURN LEFT
my room with the standing lights
and empty shoes
my room of windup toys and animals
the air others breathe into me
the desk in the messy corner
I scatter all over
the chair I sleep in
the chair where I listen so closely
I can hear your blood rising
from your feet your new blood floating
horizonward full of messages
my room with the little sign:
in use
my room of ashtrays and horses
and women pounding
something in an iron kettle
on a flat plain
single trees stand up in
mist becomes morning
men follow cattle into distance
too great to be real