XI.

a few notes not the whole bar

one can’t remember the other

 

for the world will inherit the back of my hand

and the moon will lay down and play dead

in the sand, at the wide, wide

side of the earth

where it’s known one can fly, one can fall

as one likes; such is the freedom of will

and the burden of being

 

contained, like a seed in the mouth of the earth

or a man in a bar, in a bar, bowing darkly to easy amnesia

and such

 

is the freedom, containing

the birth