M o n r o e L a w r e n c e —

[Walking into the low clearing of the leasing]

Walking into the low clearing of the leasing
dawn
I can read by that

your cone of reasons maybe
Well, maybe.
&suddenly it comes to me

pushing your hair back like
steam, & I
See that mindfulness glowing out from you, oh profane

longing, &
oh maybe nothing can touch me
make any

other thing
matter again, On into the
night or the light honestly whichever

Even
in the sympathy
embraced – the humid – the sugar
of distance, & prescribed
distraction summer, aloft, even
overwhelmed with goodness
& human alarm
for one another – a folded
harm I
know – the irksome & psychic
dent, I – it – I
can still be penetrated
by
smell by
memory of you & by spring

coils of
spreading truant steam
darkens as something to know
morning coast

as if gloat offer they
shows through so
are you
and is it

even there
such smart as brow muscle
releases safe
such cached like

wind turning down the field
the riot quiets
down
to reach new

distance
as if talking me
by sheer lamé
as if knowing both

the evening they take

sky to the police
given up lips to become thin
again though you were always good

to find out
pushing fine fire
has a small
mood

oh porch
the low & buzzing granite
crouching rain
a bowl of weather

the tract of startled
molten dark ran down like gods paint roller
you see from the highway
and did men-images
climb

in descending
rappel of me
As now as unknown
on spokes of lavender foam

.