Reflecting (#4)

But haven't I said all this before?  And who
but these bright selves —

sharing one lucky form     — one lucky motion
four men make us by their labors —

but these bright selves love     — reflecting the spans
between mirror-bright and origins —

share in this motion now     — this travel ( I think )
that might be apitude or audience —

until there is sacred everywhere     — as the moonlight
plays upon coincidence and leaf-tides —

and over this traffic love I'd wish a smaller part in —
concluding in rooms we name —

and closer to you for lengths of blue sky facing east —
and for this dark to come

and dark to come in out of     — where you are the poem
and I     — I am for sure derivitive —

child and man this moonlight shapes to praise
and to thanksgiving—

and     — after a week away     — returning to you enriched —
hearing these blow-tones     / sighs —

and by this doom-striking / ghost-striding moonlight
finding out     — showing

the shaded stuff and the groves it ducks behind     —and
casting the darkness off     — which is to say

I guess      — and so much more besides accounts —
sweeter than words can tell     — in love again —

and in these voices from recordings     — charmed by
these four stars now     — tailed and dropping

/ chasing east     — concluding in Canton's
bright and now more clouding

compromise. 

© Appetite (2)