Across the stiffening pond, your steps
        send broken branching signals
Faultless as some harp-tuning 
    
        dedicated to silence: each note
Carries an interior candle of dissonance
        the dark calendar
Marked by a sequence of frozen suns

There is a season deeper than winter
Passing in these 
        tree-diagrams, & mechanisms 
Of common speech

Sleeping under the solstice, you may suffer
Recurrent dreams 
        as the wreckage returns its image

Unburied 
The harp
        a pelvic bone, turns in your hands

But failing (you—the player
Of a misshapen instrument) 
        to complete the world's anatomy

(That story was told in deafening peals) 
        or even to mimic this

Weather's argument-in-whispers, its subtle
        ashen-green 
Striations...

"Let waters once chaotic
        assume the form of a rigid plane"

        understanding things
        are furious in their motionlessness

If the laws that govern awakening
Come to resemble a city of blue spires

        you will not awaken soon

More by Andrew Joron

Spine to Spin, Spoke to Speak

The pilot alone knows
That the plot is missing its
Eye.

Why isn't this "ominous science" 
   itself afraid, a frayed
Identity?

Pray, protagonist —
Prey to this series of staggered instants.

Here the optic 
Paints its hole, its self-consuming moment.
It is speech, dispelled, that 
   begs to begin to ache.

So that wind accelerates to wound, a dead sound
   enlivened by the visitation of owls.

As pallid as parallel, the cry
Of the negative is not the negative 
   of the cry — an irreparable blessing —

A green world's 
   "sibilant shadows" where
The syllables of your name are growing younger.

As involuntary as involuted, "who"   
   returns its noun 
   to each tender branch
That noon breaks into no one.

Point of view
Hovers, a circular cloud, over evacuated
Time.

That heard its herd bellow below
   the terraced cities, the milled millions

   as sold as unsouled, ghost-cargos. 

A symptom of the Maddening —
Woman undressed of her flesh. 
Man's address
   to Thou, & the flag of Thou.

How the fallen state
Meets the starry horizon, veil 
   against witness, hunger against void.

O, oldest 
   outermost Other —

Ageing mask 
Of the transparent Earth. Unspeculated
   image 
Streaked with mirror & stricken words.

You are neither the torn, nor the thorn.

You are the many-petalled
   melting point of repeating decimals. . .

Receiver, river
Has been burned into voice, a day-dark ribbon.
   
All signal is this 
Single.

A = A

Mine to ask a mask to say, A is not A.



No one, ever the contrarian, to answer.



The moon is both divided & multiplied

        by water: as chance, as the plural of chant.



O diver, to be sea-surrounded by a thought bled white—

        a blankness as likely as blackness.



What is the word for getting words & forgetting?



Might night right sight?



I, too late to relate

        I & I, trap light in sound

& sing no thing that breath can bring.

Related Poems

deer & salt block

One boy is a liar & says there's a block of salt under his bed to draw deer in from the orchard. One boy says the pantry wall will open if you say an untold anagram of his name. One boy is already dressed when he wakes up for his young father's wedding. One boy hides a turtle from his brothers in a dresser drawer. One boy is mute & sluggish from the hurricane sirens. One boy took a long time in the bathtub reading the comics. One boy loops a tractor chain to the ceiling fan & tears the whole roof down. One boy speaks through a keyhole to the others about a shortstop's hex. One boy can't stand the scent of elevators. One boy gives different spellings for his name each week at school. That same boy stole his teacher's shoe. Another boy listens to a radio inside his pillowcase. One boy drinks coffee alone in the zookeeper's shed. The last boy casts a purple stone to the bottom of a pond & follows it down with his church clothes on.