That chord I do not have
In me to play just yet.

New pegs I must set down,
Strings that will not blister,
Notes to learn from the first
Free from my obsessions.

Come from where? Towards what end?
God’s Chorus of Pleasures.

The wind plays each leaf and all.
So much longing for things
That come by leaving home
And long not in return.

Chips and drink downed with noise,
To guts obliged, here too.

Outside the long walls—go!
Legs not tabled under,
Become ready to stand
Membered among things ripe.

Cicadas vibrate ribs––
Wings––fill dry air with touch.

Rain falls, their love-making stops.
Tent zippers open, close,
Good for sleep, if you trust
Your skin pegged to this world.

Ground for my desk and bed,
Candle lit for reading––

New pages of an old book,
Words standing in neat lines,
As, deprived of something,
People wait for tickets.

I forget sky and earth,
The sounds of words gone down