ODE TO FALMOUTH a thoroughfare that is in light then limestone fallen, falan, Fuarè follow out to Mashpee Commons rowing a rowboat on Buzzard’s Bay your heart, then over to Bassets nests, perches, ivy unseen get into sunrise sunlight a full nude cast in sand inimitable backwards then to Hugh on screen porch making and unmaking newspaper trident staves in his hand, the light soft & arcane his bodice cascading in cottontail canvas sheets stretched overhead or, the tandem bicycle afternoon to your Nashoba, you in attic under rough wool Bleeker on the window to morning to the moon,as he should as the body leans desires and the rush then, of filling your body with your body in world after lights of day into dirts of night we sat on rocks and old soot to make the fire running into Falmouth underscore of the mile the Whistlestop trains we cannot even count in sleep or, the lighthouse northeast out to pigshead bay or, the—swooped in music Delius it had been now in Appalachia the gossamer sits on women naturally \\\\\ SONG ENDS HERE careening then in morning is only this arm out there the pig-fox slinks into day empty cans on the sill these tartans clanless deliverances of color we shining in the woodfire light pours and fills and leans articulation of how it were were it a body of being of light you fall away better in the sense of having full skins as it comes always reserved catching the eye in a height what sunrise pull Mashpee to the room lines come to hang your stayposts be emergent through into morning rays what symbols you hold your hand stretch against itself everything away from sun pulling into everything repose lineation of only to pour unleavened int he grass this truncated soft thought only mask I wear as I plunder into dawn catching sawdust as it fly from your work