This morning, as I sat drinking tea, the shadow ofMy neck found the book in my lap.
Sunlight falling upon my head and arms
And I could see the shadow of my pulse
Beating
Pulsing—and the tea steam had a shadow too.
How common.
Life and dissipating steam.
Something vibrating
Plucked—sounded for all
Or some to hear.
Then harmonics. Sympathetic vibrations.
Then still till music finds again.
Or else ever still.
From windows come music
Or steams
Or seams of life or merely
Light.
“Lord thou pluckest me out.”
Here are glistening strings
Past windows and pulse.
His Spirit
Sunlight passes through
The Shadow and these shades
Listen.
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