Gin Cove
Heather McHugh
gold graduations; but gold beyond degree has sunk
hour only, codes to deepest moss.
crosshatch. Were you to be drawn
through nine horizons (ages of pebble,
is one big wedge. It makes
in failing at a dune). Upon this higher composition,
successions of remark.
and tipped it over, and begun to swallow it:
is script; unfathomable, and exact.
into episteme, the few
of what was born: by nature (or by morture)
the link be rent.) Where human pining
Our grounds are knuckles, needles, degradable
ideograms. Granite is
lichened to
to new September lows, sent stripes across
a hundred trunks for one
Out in the open, some deciduousness does
brisk business in manifold
past forest to the shore, you'd read
long volumes in the cliff's descent:
ages of shale) this lean subversive root has struck
a lyric, corkscrewed vertical. The beach
its hard point underwater, and keeps
its uplands fluted (evidence of decades spent
skeins of black egg-sac and olive tatter
twist their best
The beach has lured into its sandhold
something hacked-off, root-like, ten feet wide,
half of the muscular tangle protrudes
above the fluent strand. Such countlessness
Forget the faithless poet: she could only
suborn senses into sense. Impressed
become the future, and the littoral
a literature. In suffix, much is merely made
sutures can be lent
to something torn. But letters! (let
and opining stop, they crop
up, serif-sent.
Copyright ©1996 Heather McHugh All rights reserved.
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