Listen!
11/14/04 moth so small it nearly escapes notice star a point whose height the treetops measure birds at first light moving methodically from branch to branch one by its silhouette a woodpecker unfortunate ones slept last night in unsuitable places their dreams are a light frost thrown over hope their memories are shaking them awake with their cold depiction of absence overhead there is a jet trail so straight it signals a world of a different order impinging on our own so fragile the vacuum of blue has carried it off already the star has gone too clouds redden the sun's tip expresses a kind of mathematics cresting a heap of yellow westwards a line of shadow crosses down the woods working out the precise time passing