627

626
What's done is framed,
Pine black straight or lapped gold advantage,
In gallery to the narrative tricked.
What lax certainty in this tale,
What jolt irritation pearled?
.
Unspool the future--
The trembling line on water:
Reviews retracted; no art here.

625

624

623

622
Nested in the time and thoughtlessly done,
A deed coolly limned by the confederate sun
That paused the shadows to show grief's place--
And this dark covering a distant face.
.
Graceless heart to labor so
In self-love's inversion, to oneself foe.
A hand or eye nor strong nor weak
That buries what it would seek.

621

620

619
People line the counter for their breads and salads.
Florescence of Brie. Of olive.
In the humid afternoon the brick edge makes a triangle of garden shade.
Two starlings slowly pace.
The distant highway serves as partner to the silence.
Dust motes cross the shaft.
Yuri's last mask possessed: blind despairing reason.
Three weeks left.
In the Station den Haag the people look; they face in all directions.
Love, I need.

618

617
The weight of the human sensorium is perfect
In the conjecture of the bird's flight's undone next
Grasp of the air's untried swift history;
This exigent futurity of desire's unmet
Yet consumation done.

616
Air sea rippling harbinger
In your delicate shell.
Frequent threshold in those banks--
Thou un-arted perfection--
Swerves a lips' peck of sound
Salutation, depart, pivot of change.
Whistle to the platform, uninvited journey.

615

614

613

from the OED.

612

611