To divide the woods again,its present current drawn,
I expel the oak, any last springs,the charge of fields.
All its unrest takenthe new places fit the soil,
shearing it from to make a new site.The deer. The fatal leaves.
In their exhausted stances some of the pine remainthe hill crest, where a limit of bird are.
Their coarse fletchings shed decay,dropped through branches tepid sap fills,
the fitful ground dark, spent, quiet,vague. [End Page 113]
Once, in the paling grasses, I heard you.The lengths of summer drawn to meet a sated spectre
were fastened, come from the slack of treesraking light in the season left.
The draining heat knotted pollens slanting through.Cedar halves purged, brown in stalks of field
reduced under each plant wane, the hoarded arrangementspursed in my eyes less, bodies summoned to order spent.
It was a scalped wave come upon. Animal huddled into thicket chased.A lungs stalled in the guts of August fraying. [End Page 114]
We have watched you a long time hereWhat the severe night repairedInterrupted trees resilient listChattel never survived, never had
The world is just digesting usSuch is witness, our hard laborThe clutch of sight strangles, this is the sure gripWe have no ballast will even
Welcome this amount of thingsAlarmed animals varyEach sight heard traffics moreThe peals soon a vital store, indelible
Abandoned witness in your mouth keepIts censor your second breadth of eyesOther things portion each otherHow quiet the fast grouse, the maurad of trees [End Page 115]
Now that the trees are mutestrewn through them our sight peals out a sorted tame.
We cross the wide field.Its thickets scatter what light arms the rest
of its shallow ground.This contracted life pollens the mild organs
spanned in the accurate dusk, lastly digestedthrough the slow yield. Preyed on entire
their bodies answer malformed to ours,a dark concert writ if spoor.
We go on so informed,bowed by the dark to see, nearer, nearer the grasses. [End Page 116]
Robert Dannenberg lives and works in Chicago.