It is wild to try and (not) touch you

And as you turn (in the kitchen)

Into caramelized onions

Stuck to the trust

Ah, the dark pan

And bright Parks

Oh, the even texture

Of this day.

Can we reflect on it?

Here, without photographs,

Capture the tune of our

Walking about?

What tangled technology

Can embody

Any part of

The renewed-new rest

That we took?

Awake all of the time of this day

In talking, (in me) over-talking

Without taking away

What have we now?

The stitches drawn across clothes

(Those) left on

(Those) lines sewn

Into cardboard

And scarf-cloth,

Along all hems.

Transit, tacit, early;

We swung.

On two swings we swung

One, Two:

With the dog to the left

And the stillness of

Earmuffs of dust on the right

You held no short lead

On no dog, no kid, no killer trees

Messing up nothing, not at all

Just wanting

Closer time,

In little ways

The space in which

To tell you

What I

Will