I dream of passage.
I dream of October.
I lift up the line.
I work toward geese and starlings.
I work toward autumn light.
Then the arrival of morning and I beg for bread.
What grief.
What strange husk.
Afterwards, I work within.
I work toward and without.
I finish.

When I was white light coming over the hills
When I was half-bird
When I ran faster
When I carried you when at the moment of my birth
When the light would not rise
We knew two things:
the light was a promise
and we could either rise or fall.

When I was--O when I was light.
When I ran--when I ran faster.
We knew two things.