The throat-flute uttering its constant note
of claim and name and wake and never-same
and nuanced cadences of sate, remote
days translated into a breathing frame,
knows its viewless voice is future’s lend,
surpassing present where it grows and dwells
momently, glancing vocable, to spend
blooming fullness as it spills and swells
in the air, ear, othered. Heard, is it the same?
of mute contingencies its songs declaim
note by note by stopless increment
in the sounding, silenced. Audible degree
nights the note that lets mind’s nighttime see.
Copyright © BOA Editions, Ltd 2008
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of BOA Editions LTD.