VERSE:
Lindeman, Jack
JACK LINDEMAN
BREATH
Here are names,
people circling me like stars
with no place to go
& gestures in dark windows
the moon keeps beating against in vain.
Whatever opens is a door with nothing but...
...Winter has tumbled like an old man made of snow, the broomstick splintered & the black of his eyes merely coal on the hard ground...
...JACK LINDEMAN BREATH Here are names, people circling me like stars with no place to go & gestures in dark windows the moon keeps beating against in vain...
...sand perhaps & a stem deflowered...
...Whatever opens is a door with nothing but bareness growing behind it...
...The ocean is tremulous against the beach & the moon breaks into pieces beneath the weight of the sky, yet I tell you, no page can hold within the boundary of its ink a purer gesture than breath...
...than breath...
Vol. 102 • August 1975 • No. 10
