(AGAINST SILENCE)
In every direction...

PLOT
The sad story...

HISTORICAL EPISODE
two feet of clay...

NINE SIGNATURES
In your head, slender curlicues of blood...

LIFE
no one survives it...

10/11
creeping naked around a church...

MYSTERY
I found the murdered man's ______ in my hand...

THEFT OF A LINE FROM STRAND
Torment of love--...

STOP MY EARS
in the middle of the night...

HIDING
in the forest...

SECRECY
A long time till dawn...

UNLUCKY MOON
the tin fear...

SEARCHING
Broken sky, light rain...

BLANK OF BLANKS
no hand can hold...

FALLING
A fine grace of falling is in the leaves...

AT DAWN
Darkness breaks away from...

AT THE PLACE
Standing where something died...

STRANGE FISHING
Blameless...

BEING DEAD
it can't kill you...

JUDAS IS IN HELL
our child-life with its magical intents...

GETTING PEACE
I got inside...

LISTENING TO THE DEAD
you have it all your way...

HEAVEN
is this what it means...

FALLING


A fine grace of falling is in the leaves
gone beyond hanging and more pulled to earth
in their dry bat-lightness than in any
fullness of green.  To the roots, the worm-graced
soil, they flush and scatter the year's holdings.

The wind calls to the living, waking us
before dawn.  Cold inner lights spark our eyes.
We hold nothing in our hands, we open
to nothing inside:  our fine gravity
of loss, our center, our place of falling.


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