Now, get up—
that horizon circle
is edgeless, unstoppable.

But try.
Start with a window,
any edible box.

See what you
will fit through.
Your first poem

must have been
about this crown of pines,
the cirrus clouds far off,
and the wind between them.

The first poem:
wasn’t a gold ring, or
a handkerchief trick.

It didn’t
ask you to sit.

Say want. Say dear.
Say A robin sat humming in the deep
willow. Here is union: two blue eggs
two lights & two hums. In the willow
which hums, say hum. Say willow
with your thin throat humming. Now, where
is willow? Where robin on the light support?
Two quick hums, two quick lights—yes
a braided nest for two, & a branch
for dear robin. Then, humming willow.
Then, egg & egg. Taking bright hold
of the branch. Willow of lungs
afire—