And then from Near or Random Acts,
which is, I suppose, in a way the most formal work I've
written, in a sense.
Although I don't know if you--
usually people don't think of formal poetry
when they make up the form themselves.
But, you know, I made up the form myself.
So every section of this has seven lines,
and every line has five words.
And there were really good reasons for all that,
but I'm not going to go into that because then--
you can buy the book, and it tells you,
I think, at the end of it, so.
"1."
"As begins a run, no?
Young, two months north, fair to book to letter hearts.
Around table, barefoot violin, thin friend away,
home calls night.
Join neither to nor, except bloom center's desert water
sound."
"2."
"September begins, 7 by 10.
Sunflower house rises again, for two and three clear sun girls
circle each other, frame light in low grass,
green grays as water runs where strong ducks break bread."
"3."
"Honeysuckle, isn't it?
Isn't that what honeysuckle looks like?
Wild time, fall down thistle, under growth through craw,
through maw, what vulnerable will allows in
and profiles close to clear view, fond of the way out?"
"4."
"The world is too much upon a table,
for legs if painted blue as in a photograph, ground
and air lacking substance, waiting patient miles where
prairie grass gives way to lilac, sweet smell upon."
"5."
"Beach filled with glass color in Northwest state of water
falls within book's paged sight, and sight
looks over green field, where run alone
with thoughts free reign in line, two or more this time."
"6."
"Relations, a preposition ever over.
Four to one, the weather's on the rise under hill
if bell's ring falls wide, and white, deep winter calls,
'Halt' to merry mint else than ever, ask together."