When the collie saw the child



break from the crowd,







he gave chase, and since they both



were border-crossers,







they left this world.



We were then made of—







affronted by—silence.



The train passed Poste 5, Paris,







late arrival, no luck, no



enlarging commentary







magnified in any glass.



“The ineffable







is everywhere in language”



the speaker had said







in the huge hall where



I sat amongst coughers,







students, in the late



February of that year,







at the end of a sinuous



inquiry on sense and sound—







“and very close to the ground,” he’d said.



Like mist risen above







the feet of animals



in a far field north of here.





