As if by saying “morning” on January 8th
the light would be set forward
along the megalophonous shore
Was there anything else you wanted to know
about the body where I belong
how the torso is cut off from a waving arm
by the yellow space in the background
and how the head has been put on wrong
or not wrong. Each looked into the water
and was frightened by a different thing
of his or her own making
One was frightened by stripes
and the other by a turtle
even though I knew it wouldn’t bite
but would take me for a ride
It was the time when the phone always rings
to dissolve the mediating scene
in which a phone always rings
to help us with our counting
I say hello to the lateral darkness
who answers guardedly
in painted fragments. The drop of a hat
If the shoe fits. A thin bird flaps
before it sits. Who answers noiselessly
Hans Memling is watching from my matchbox
where the serpent lives
This is his nest