Only Because It Pleases the Tongue

Branches reach like sinuous rafters peaceful

At evening when a bird loses all measure

Of these leaves this land that memory

Captive before spoken things the soul

A thread tied to a star the slow passage

Of everything could have been different

Could have been waiting for you like rain

In your wineglass the remorseless flame

Of sound the intractable smoke of silence

A sheet wrapped around a thought now

Let us praise those who pray alone with cold

Stones O how they love that which awaits

Its own defeat how they adore that which

Reconciles its own face with its own scream 

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