Chapter One

One word at a time one can
get at it
get at it
get closer

the meaning settles onto an image
that asks to be described
- no this way, specific.
Be there.

What woods?
How cold?  How wet?
How wet below whose knees?
How like you -
that hair,
that youth, hope,
love of the air around
crawling there
quite actually
between fascism and freedom

between
between

the fern fronds
touch his cheeks

And who was that?

How like you?
 - like you
too much, or you like him.

And both like me.
[- Who said that!?]

Is it a face that reveals itself
or just again that dark wash of spirit
inside

that says,
write about me.
I will dictate:
I know you.
I have always known you.

He never really got through his forest.
And you.
You don't have a chance.

Write that.

Write that.

First person:
"I"