This is while one is elsewhere, no eye
has seen this that isn’t closed



one hovers above the orchard without feathers
one weighs a spirit, what shall the owl eat now



time reduces sight, chute with no bottom
hunger denies a word that means nothing



the trees stand emptied under their nests, no egg
shall still break out in decay, from blast furnaces



some breath still comes, the inedible silver
consumes the light, in a manner of still speaking –