To know seasons by shadows, hawk breath, the dip of day early & not early; a page exists for each of these; this too; as in sky, it’s all happening at once & you wonder how to hold a drop of rain outside the wet; all these puzzles with no solutions & nothing to
puzzle in to or out from; you remember your cells
belonging to others, before the dark grew you
of flesh in weave, of veins in form; to incubate; to taste world in liquid first; to know sky as your creator’s belly; feel the continuous hug of organs in soak; a haunt before womb; these months too a season; a swarm of molecules & atoms in bind; & in float, a spark;
& an O for passage; mouth in gape before the tongue learns—