Oh, and this too...

from "The Present," a really beautiful set of opening stanzas:


You step from the bus into a sequencing tool that is moist and carries the

     scent of quince

You move among the eight banner-like elements and continue to the edges

     of either an object or a convention

And in Cascadia also

As in the first line of a nursery rhyme

Against cyclic hum of the heating apparatus

You're resinous with falsity


It's autumn

Which might be tent-scented or plank-scented

Their lands and goods, their budgets and gastronomy quicken

You want to enter into the humility or limitations

Coupled with exquisite excess

You walk in the green park at twilight

You read Lucretius to take yourself towards death, through streets and
     markets

In a discontinuous laboratory towards foreignness

You bring his prosody into your mouth

When you hear the sound of paper