For L

the neutral angels are guiding these constellations
towards an ethical beauty, a mountain so lightweight
it can only be described in scent. just like those women
who love you, slippery as fish and silver. here and now
they tell me of sorrows of an unknown generation,
from the tarmac, from on high.

darkly the grey-gold of your pupil enters into love,
i managed to steal something of you. i say:
wherever you are it is november; springs seasoned
by verdant lichen and elegies of the jutting rock.
what i ignore glows in you
regardless it glows.