or a poem called:
I Painted my Room in a Colour Named Lilac
in which the world walks
then runs
(air/light)
as a process of verb
to imagine a single heartbeat
is a process of speech,
process of energy
to invent, re-invent
a few remaining
trees outside a lilac room
lilac outside a curious mind
outside a process of air and light
thinking that
is the religion
of the intelligent
the opiate of the rain-washed
sun driven experience
of an early spring day,
alone in a house
dazzled by the process, music,
a book of hours, open
to the process of wind/air/
lightly chosen, in a life
carried off the scale, notes on the
fall of a sparrow, so many notes
played in dazzling scale
to those remaining
curious and curiouser, at last
stunned, by claims not made by us
of affection, of speech,
of naming, outside the lilac room
the parts of speech
known to us
as houses, rented rooms
in a midlands hung-over and dazzled
leaves like copper, lilac
or at least something called
back from the brink of forgetting
timely,
and fraught with distance