Touching The Rock

For John Hull

Aiming the pain

you hurl yourself into

the blindman’s fog

bluff of snow

(slowly you lose your left

shoulder el-

bow) Unfrozen now

breathing shadows flee

the Father-Who-Sees-in-the-Dark

Footfall crows

leaking heart of a clock

Crossing against the light

coal trucks thunder over

Iron Mountain

With a blank look & a white stick

you follow curved 2’s of swans on slate

dead letter of a smile

an unruly line on holiday

In the wild wetness

the everywhereatonceness

of this blessed fall

a voice appears to you

cloaked in the luminous mantle of rain

Gazing upon the face of waters

a hand lifts the veil

from scepter & snai

unwraps its darkly paradoxical gift

Beloved object

wing of morning

shining shining at the end of days

someone sees you

Contributor

L.S. Asekoff

Askeoff has published two books of poetry. He directs the MFA Poetry Program at Brooklyn College.

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