|Belief is present all around us—that much we can sink.
Belief has been one fidget after another in the dry grass across which
we’ve opened up, our great run.
I tell you the words of this paper, the very beginning, how we slapdash
and holus bolus swept into the wrack,
all that green fire, the pits of light, the jungle
decked out across our vision.
I tell you the lines that will make the semblance of a room.
You have a look of mixed operas; your face is pale with a want that has no edge,
so you tell me the tilt everything has is erupting with laughter.
Then we are in the jeep moving through vast night,
the cool of the dashboard
and the hum of your nonsense way in the back with the gear.
A flash of lightning illuminates the deep plains, but you hardly seem to notice,
you seem there already, or as though so thoroughly stitched to your one hard thought
you are doomed to a kind of
totality, your shadow clinging to the length of your back as you enter the trees.
We are watching you. We scrape along the ridges of our cans for the jelly.
There's a reason we came out here, we all clap; storytime, we all clap, animal noise
breaking over us like the very thick parts of our hunger.