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eviction people arrive to haunt me
 with descriptions of summer’s wildflowers 
 how they are carpet of fierce colors

I bet you hate to see us they say and yes
 I do hate to have to move again especially from here 
 destruction brought to place of love

the uneven smiles that win she’s a business woman 
 blond tints that glow at sunset as profits rise 
 alas what labor I employ

but to ensure a moment’s joy
 sets branches trembling & arms chilled 
 dear one long returning home, come to

clammy feverish details, muffed sorrow
 I turn to throw a tear of rage in the pot
 never remorse but hint of scruples I’d hope for

it is error it is speculation it is real estate
 it is the villain and comic slippery words
 the work of despotic wills to make money

I scream take it take your money! make your money 
 go on it’s only money, here’s a wall of dry rot
 here’s an unfinished ceiling, just a little sunlight

peeks through this (lark, no luminance! exquisite St. Etienne 
 stove doesn’t work icebox either too hot or frozen 
 firescreen tumbling down

kitchen insulation droops is ugly & a mess
 ah but love it here, only surface appearances 
 to complain of, nothing does justice

to shape of actual events I love 
 but a fight against artificiality
 its inherent antagonism, bald hatred of moving

and problem of thirsty fig tree in Burroughs
 apartment wakes me I don’t want to go down there yet 
 & how to orchestrate the summer properly

the problem of distress & not denying pride from it 
 too atomized to make pleasure of melancholy
 & an uncontrollable enthusiasm for throne & altar

I want to sit high want simple phalanx
 of power independent of everything but free will 
 & one long hymn in praise of the cabin!

it is a confession in me impenetrably walled in 
 like aesthetics like cosmos an organ of
 metaphysics and O this book gives me a headache

dear Weston La Barre let’s have an argument 
 because I see too clearly how rational I must be & 
 the kernel of my faith corrupted

because you have no reliance on the shaman & outlaw 
 or how depth of mind might be staggering 
 everywhere except in how important science is

science? no he won’t he fooled by visions
 whereas I wait for dazzling UFOs they announce 
 will arrive high in these mountains

I repair the portal even invite stray horses in 
 have a little toy receiving station 
 that sits by the bed

at the edge of night all thoughts to place of love 
 all worries to this place of love 
 all gestures to the place of love

all agonies to place of love, thaws to place 
 of love, swarthy valley sealed 
 in wood, log burst into flame

in home of love, all heart’s dints 
 and machinations, all bellows & pungency 
 antemundane thoughts to palace of love

all liberties, singularity, all imaginings
 I weep for, Jack’s sweet almond-eyed daughter to 
 place of love, & heavy blankets

and terracing & yard work & patch work 
 & tenacity & the best in you
 surround me work in me to place my love

dear cirques, clear constraint, dissenting
 inclinations of a man and a woman, Metonic cycle 
 all that sweats in rooms, lives in nature

requiems & momentum & trimmings of bushes 
 dried hibiscus & hawks & shyness 
 brought to this place of love

trees rooted fear rooted all roots brought
 to place of love, mystery to heart of love 
 & fibers

and fibers in sphere of love a whole world makes 
 spectators of slow flowering of spring
 & summer when you walk to town for eggs

and continuous hammerings as new people 
 arrive & today we notice for first time
 a white-crowned sparrow out by the feeder

with the chickadees & juncos & I missed 
 that airplane-dinosaur in dream nervous 
 to travel again, miss buds pop open

to shudder in breeze, their tractability 
 makes sudden rise of sensibility you are 
 shuddering too & your boy laugh

comes less frequent now you’re drawn into 
 accountability, will I return to find all 
 stuff tidy in silver truck

ready to go? it’s you in this place I lose 
 most because it’s here in you I forget
 where I am, this place for supernaturals

perched high in sky & wind, held by wind in stationary 
 motion as bluebird we observe over meadow or caught 
 up with jetstream dipping in valley’s soft cradle

power & light & heat & radiance of head it takes
 power & light & heat & radiance of head it takes to 
 make it work while

down there someone building replicas of what
 it feels like to be a human multitude, fantasy 
 molded clumsily, spare my loves

and love of glorious architecture when you really put 
 outside in, the feeling of cloud or mountain 
 or stone

having developed an idea of idyllic private life 
 & sovereignty of spirit over common 
 empirical demand

I tell you about renunciation, I tell you holy 
 isolation like a river nears ocean to 

and cabin becomes someone’s idea of a good place 
 discretion you pay for it wasn’t mine either 
 but sits on me imprints on me

forever splendor of fog, snow shut strangers out 
 gradual turn of season, ground stir, pine
 needle tickle your shoulder, peak curve, fresh air.

© Anne Waldman