I post the sign
late in spring
drawn on sewn skins

I hugged myself
and it changed my aerodynamics.
I began spinning out of control.

These were your sighs,
your toss,
the listing yoke

Nothing moves.
There is an amazing silence.
I become large and bored with sitting here.

I could not speak the name of the place,
the stone building that gave
more silence to the field.

In a field of broken antlers, 
I’m holy
as the grass 

I don’t give
a pound of
mule mucous

I give up:
I bleed I must know.
Grant me the

Everything about
a human
is doomed

Although it is noon or roughly so, the church below is
   positioned like an hour hand 
at eleven o’clock,