Stand here. Now listen to
the light. For what is
material can be felt first
as sound. Or
as six or eight
vases, jars, dishes.
White, bone, ivory, brown
on a table with margins.
Or then as light.
Then the rare permission
of blue.
A line-up, including the generic
exiting a thin envelope
of space. It accumulates.
Regroups as if rethought
in the forum of time
as four or six vases
that cast shadows.
A fulcrum
using light as force
that might move us
to an interior’s gravity.
The small music
left from a sky once on fire.
As if time in columns has been
collared here.