Hello, blank page and place of risk,
I will walk a small square of you
in the early morning, looking out
for a thing no bigger than a full stop
flying right to my eyes and circling
in the air there, black as a soot speck
with a nervous system and a neat grid
of signals, that couples with its kind
in a corner of the sofa, even on my own
ear-lobe. Sea- world of brazen air (this
room in waltz- -time) humming a tune
to make ice to. And now the cricket
coming in on time, a dry night -heart, singing.
One. In the opening speech of Agamemnon
the Watchman, fearing indiscretion, yields
the burden of exposure to the palace:
This house itself, had it a voice, would speak.
Two. When describing almost any group,
encounter, reading, party, scene, my friend
habitually (parenthetically) says Then
I turned to X and said,


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