in the larger
darknesses

of the ground
west of sight
I'm shouting
at the mountain

of silence
and depth
when
an eye opens
and I open
my mouth

to devour
the sound
of night
which in time
will filter
through all

that swings
or hums
my fist
is full

of letters
my wrist
aches like
a drum

such luck
to hold
this compendium
of resonant

voices in
the sanatorium
of my head
whose guest-

book is
crowded
with the high-
brow and

the low-brow
and whose
overseer
in the back-

ground prays
every day
for my bright
daughters

and the black
blue waters
they're swimming
through and all

the possibilities
they might
swallow
and I know

my strength
and sphere
may be slight
but look

at this
handful
of light
I found

in a crack
in the ground
here
it's for you