(Untitled, unfinished #1)

To be clear about the sound. What it is
I am pushing. Was A. anything more

than a lithe construction, a handful
of materials I pushed around to fit

a larger space. (Be clear about the space.)
It was the woods. (It was the woods at night.)

Someone was panting. (My throat in fear.)
Tiny twig houses and granite thrones

and what did I do but make love
and kick them over and bury

the materials once exhausted.
It was a spoiled way to learn fear

in this dark hollow (at night the moon
reflecting off the lake like a hag, a bogey)

so I tried to share it with A. I need to be
clear about cutting out my tongue. Ask.