but I to you of a white goat (fragment 40)
but I to you of a white goat
speak many millions of syllables
and yet say nothing at all
of my own passing.
we meet in this ocean of bearded hills
between two compass points.
I offer you my guidebook of colors,
containing every syllable about
the history of this white goat, where it has
climbed and where it fell. this prickled honey
combed from all I know, will be yours
without a single utterance.
Words No Longer There
but I to you of a white goat (fragment 40)
the doorkeeper’s feet are seven armlengths long (fragment 110)
no more than the bird with piercing voice (fragment 30)
the one with violets in her lap (fragment 21)