My eternity
is the wall
holy plane of cement
there
a bird
stuck in solid whiteness
upon inspection
the rusty limb
of a nail
dawn is
but a hole
a minor cave
between two framed
photographs of the sky
of Arizona
a babel rising
against this vertical horizon
books and books
leaning against
my immobile infinity
a finger
combs the
miniscule craters
as if caressing
a tooth of God
my wall
neither
warm or cold
a monk’s sigh
converted to stone
Beyond Language 