--- L E O N A R D   G O N T A R E K

The trees are infinite. A particle of bird sits on a branch.


The clouds, undersides, scum-caked bottoms of boats, witness.


Heart, dog on a 20-foot leash, awake & restless, goes just so far.


Praise, infinite. The trees have made us for themselves.


I want to know death, smear of red, understand.


Cardinal hidden in the leaves, baby in the barn.


Cologne of undertaker, standing among flowers, not pleased until it comes to us.


Clouds hanging from the branches, cats, from the branches.


Fat black crows secured in their teeth.


False Spring, manifold. My faith is little. Tenderness, infinite.


Poison arrives as postcard. Part of letter that you lick.


God is shaken out, powder in secret compartment of the ring.