but for us they
not the inner grace of the blind
but the outer grace of the deaf
divers leap from the cliff edge
that also is for you
the whole body a sign
or jockey on horse
the shine
after the quake people crawled from
collapsed houses
enough to make you cry
hands out of pockets out of gloves
the flaw is the perfection of the template
maybe everything he knows of women
made to be seen
birds know themselves
shit and feathers
but they fly for us
sound on air
moth born to die
incandescent bulb
our youth
the earth even 
but for us they
if an inner landscape