All the night towers leak
they are streaming
light on wet pavement
animate breath
on the face of black water

and we bent-shaped shadows
nothingness took
roaming Babel of The Book
at every half-lit threshold passed
find one steep birthing terror gapes
the Fall
we can't remember¾

with creases on our faces
like maps of County Dire
huddled by a sentenced elm
in the park of literature
original in sin the long-condemned
we sing for hire

and to comfort one and other

after you went west
I once heard Sophy snarl
he'll be in some seaside bar
serenading any girl
who'll bare her breast
to hide his face in

and the moment you were mentioned
an old remorse recurred
that end-of-summer pang
I'd meant to write you music
meant to cast it in the tragic measures
lofty   sombre   clear
and freight it with mystery

but I've caught only a tagging bit
of treble chorus         here

deeper Jorge
than body's deepest thrust
are the lyric conversations
of the anguished