"the sea, night, lilacs"

XLV

What thwarts this fear I love

to hear it creak upon this shore

of the trackless room;          the sea, night, lilacs

all getting ambiguous

Who dreams of the black colonnade

Casually tossed off as well

Are dead after all (and who falters?)

Everything turns into writing

I strain to gather my absurdities into a symbol

Every day my bridge

They basted his caption on top of the fat sheriff, "The Pig."

Some "others" were dormants: More water went under the dam.

What excitement to think of her returning over the colonnade,

over the tall steppes, warm hands guiding his eyes to hers.

-- Ted Berrigan, The Sonnets