The bright suns I can see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place.
Walt Whitman
The book blazes, color in the cheeks is
high and showing, the others are also
there, they are fine, reappointed,
clean, recognizable, the boots unlaced a matter
for conjecture, heavy unethical
matter, handed manner, the dreams are entirely
unfounded and blaze, the hand a little
clumsier through its mass
of removal, not planetary, the color
visible to the naked eye.