Laynie Browne
from Speak A Long While To A Brook
Large eyes looking out from the coach.
A houseful of parrot, or a hand in a bushel of kittens.
Or else sent on an errand rushed in from the rain.
A kind place to dwell.
For protection she slept hovering some feet above the ground.
This was remembered not as a dream, but as some peculiarity.
The mechanism appears powdery ; several times before there
was nowhere to go. It was dark. There was a traveler with
adequate room. A title approximate of a sink. The blew of youth
had been trespassed, trampled by so many witnesses, and so
skated.
I stood waiting at the edge of the frozen pond
followed by several earlier versions
Misgivings flew into three dark portraits on the wall.
This is the only way they could be seen.
A town defines talk. Sand is called water. This is the place
having been taken out of the inhabitant, and then pasted all
over the face in bright streaks which stick in green tissue paper.
She held violets to her fox complexion.
(One who was to sing or speak into a wind which would then
carry the renouncement of mirror in other).
Landscape reminder: those sparkles mistaken for fire opals are
but reflections of a red day, which bends to distort the
understanding of what is being said to whose waters. Gathers
waves and mimics away. A receding shore can gather the
eyeline.
The study of weather is conducted without instruments. A body is placed
within elements. Evening, a period of decreasing daylight; a period of
increasing night. Large eyes look down from the coach. They thought these
instruments to deny a body refuge from the lessening of light and heat, that
each heart cell could not sense the brooding form. A wash of dark color in a
storm of horses. The eye thought to take the body home. The blew memory
was constructed of watery ../../images, none of which fit the carrier. And yet, the
lessening of light would not permit her to stay at the edge of the frozen lake.
The small glow of the carriage was enough to carry away.
Copyright © 1996 Laynie Browne
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