WINGED AND ACID DARK

A sentence with “dappled shadow” in it.

Something not sayable

spurting from the morning silence,

secret as a thrush.

The other man, the officer, who brought onions

and wine and sacks of flour,

the major with the swollen knee,

wanted intelligent conversation afterward.

Having no choice, she provided that, too.

Potsdamer Platz, May 1945.

When the first one was through he pried her mouth open.

Bashō told Rensetsu to avoid sensational materials.

If the horror of the world were the truth of the world,

he said, there would be no one to say it

and no one to say it to.

I think he recommended describing the slightly frenzied

swarming of insects near a waterfall.

Pried her mouth open and spit in it.

We pass these things on,

probably, because we are what we can imagine.

Something not sayable in the morning silence.

The mind hungering after likenesses. “Tender sky,” etc.,

curves the swallows trace in air.