Words are afraid up here.
The rapture and the terrifying exposure.
Strange birds roosting, a human voice shouting a world’s-end shout.
Snow hurries to the meeting, wanting to cover the waking in my body.
I could fill up the sea with this waking.
The outlook is thrilling; it satisfies.
It goes even farther than the view from the heights of love.
It eats the roof off the sky.
My radiant loneliness, imagining me under ruin of starlight.