We were apart day by day, down and away.
Through the clouds in the east, like a star falling into most crowded streets.
Straight through them, on the broad way, our days are in the yellow leaf.
The transformations of fire, the bow and the lyre.
This contrast a hidden harmony.
Wild swans take the path of the sun; since you weren't there go from me.
A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream (asking you would break everything), neither ask for consent to do what is wrong.
Laurels leaving fossils on Fell St. My eyes fixed on the stones of under me you so quite new.
The short distance between us three feet of concrete.
You went away that summer, planting broken oars, high above the linden trees, between the clashing rocks.
And I'm running out in the snow trying to sweat you away.
In the vale of soul-making wishing is not enough.
You know I am just a flash of lightning in a cloud.
We're never at the same point, and I don't know why.