The flaw on which being presses
—George Oppen
entry 7
—in the valley dusk grass stills amblers pause
silhouettes indistinct
turn trees
lazy the messenger of resemblance
or is mind
the reluctance
appeased only when color
fleshes every shadow with suggestion
entry 8
——in the off-trail bramble
what rushes in every direction away is time
a mouth tonight
hidden in ordinary ordinal gnats
entry 9
——I look too late
no rabbit in the twilit huff of dust but
animate is a finding-edge
off the fixity orbit
I can't
entirely
displace
phenomenon opens buries all its guests
moon
is a wall moon slips behind
entry 10
——torn web capering light idea
still caught in its object sky of every color
truer than memory
coaxing eye
from plot its refuge
