from _Fragmentary Ekphrases Based On Paintings Made By Monkeys_

[Blue and red gouache; by Julia]


To know the hiding place
of the angel
                  of incidence
but not to find it.

                     To annotate
summer’s white heart
          (     or the cricket’s
acoustical sails  )
           on the cool, unread
verso of a murmur.

Because you taught me
such saturation
       was even possible.

Because, wherever they are,
anemones of the air

               (or
    of the
                   sea)
                           dream
diagonally.