The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

Rilke's Death from development, of angels, welkin reminders, of what might
have been, here, among other valleys' roots, like magma, poured spirit one
and then another; furious angels! invisible, whose arms illuminate the
night harrowed from animals wounded, animals dying; among all orders, a
command. With what might one counter the thin edge of the Real?; with what
countenance?; with what countenance will Any listen? Multiples move, among
multitudes; crossed by elk, by deer, by wolves, kestrel-binding holding
fields (these wait for No One)

What hovers, soars (these move for No One)

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