The subject noses forward
             into buried struggle
full of themes, perils, stage directions
                         (his brittle handshake,
           an epistemic trouble).

Toting a briefcase,
            transfigured into the vague
and vaporous
             insubstance of doubt, taking a note
from his breast pocket
                         a sturdier reality flees.

Stones protest
                           the empty air
and the ink in the snow of the page
                  a dizzy resolution
borrowing the weight
                         of penance
where we break
                         as a fold in paper.

Outstretched arms, a cracked back
(yawning),
                          adoring the mill of instants
(singular and concrete again).

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