Some days you run out and love
every man that you can.
The wind is heard hollering

Of all cities, Paris
is now the coldest.

What good are the two

Some men, who collaborated self-consciously
with killers behind a one-way mirror darkly,
catching their breaths on every errant wind,

Maybe the moon is made of ice, not cheese,
And that's why it's so frightening.

Though on a warm night,

I do not move through time. I move
through rain. When rain falls
straight down on mossy brick walks

Everything springs from nothing, then is thrust,
face forward, to infinity, declared
Pascal. To get to know the infinite,

Noise is relative, too, like space
and time. For fish, who live packed
in water, the massive crash of a leaf

Surely we did not need this ( to see an inscrutable sky so
clearly) to consider God a base invention, a vile insinuation,
an impolite proposition, an attempt—alas, successful—at

When you set out to find your Northwest Passage
and cross to an empty region of the map

with a passionate desire to know what lies beyond,

The friend hugs you a little longer than usual and winks.
"Andrew was not the Brother of the Lord," he says,
and you wonder just who is the lord in this story. Who is