pebble dash the stretched wires
gave to the veranda precisely that dense

order which the gaze with its sharpness
seemed to undo. the severe lines

and edges. the crackling of the sparrows in a sleep
which trickled from the pine trees. was it the timbre

of bare tree-trunks the constant flow
of water against the pebbles. ledges

below them the eroded concrete. lime
and splinters of glass. an easy path

from the eyebrow to the ear. strung wire
kept its sight. in its space, by contrast,

there was some rolling. still lime. which let itself be touched
from an edge for so long.

Translated by Hans-Christian Oeser and Gabriel Rosenstock