O, and Green
size without design
past without a history
at what height
midday enters
swinging its gate. . .
and this much later
presented in language
not in perception
the field’s
white design
an old bone sequence
contemplation’s edge
planned as a texture
we are playing
a game of appearance
the what world leaks
on the language hand
to say another
and mean knife
among the pub crawlers
emotional voices
hands in water:
eyeless spies
of a discontent evening
the warm mind shrouded
humorous and astute
rumors we carried
who cannot endure
silence or size
infinity’s brief
articulation
each curve of the water
redesigns light
bends seeing briefly
in which pattern
deepening the background
the fourth eye canters
a footprint goes
straight to these windows
sand blown sand city
along the coast
restless
—Paul Hoover
____
“O, and Green” from Winter Mirror (Flood Editions, 2002)