How can you lose the sky
When you can look right through me
And see the gears of the earth
Building themselves to your motion
Down on the ground where it’s all
silent as time I weave the weeds
On the river of dirt
Into my invented life
But the least rooted stalk
Will have none of it and flows off
and the weeds see through me
They see you they see you
The mist is the earth weeping for transparency.
You were there when the world was softened,
when a thought of condensed desire slurred you,
made slow motion replays of us all,
like a snowfall changing its mind or a road sign
rendering movement of all kinds but time travel impossible.
The empty sky can be conquered with a feeling
shaped like a color so simple it absorbs
nothing, How transparent is this tear?
It is the glistening sky praying to be earthbound,
to land on an unshod foot moments before
it is obscured by a step towards the wish.
The sky will have its wish and the earth will
have its wish and like the shape
of a new letter from a familiar alphabet
your body will walk my words in the mist.
Translations from the English 