I once had belief, but it didn’t make me any better. I was still mute and made only of verbs;
                                                                                             I still slept while I spoke

and ran while I listened. Now I am deep in the augur,
my shadow that can’t keep on the wall

and all the radio towers with their blank, red mouths
overlooking the river.

One feels around for the proper switch, one guess, all the decisions
                                                                                  littering the hillsides

like minor flowers. This is the way the light touches down, the baroque air
in the lovely shape of an oath.

Watch me walk through my house. Be
my friend. Here are the islands and here is the table we can count them on.

Just as I’m combing my hair. Just as I balance my eyeball on the post.