Seasonal Works with Letters on Fire

To Leon, Born Before a Marathon

T O L E O N , B O R N B E F O R E A M A R AT H O N When you were born, they fell in love with sleep; doves delivered the five wax notes; a pointed moon brought in its radiance. Some were strapping distance on their feet as you cried out among the architectures; month of the fiddlehead, hounds-tongue, coltsfoot; month of the normal rains— & though earth is somewhat tired of the new, there would never not be news again. Tall wild stalks circled the lake, stirring shouting into the street, a little gray trash scattered; & when the runners finally passed, rebel seeds had joined an auxiliary race. You brought two kinds of hours into days; one kind was blank; one had your expression on its face— 2 1 ...