Off in the near corner of the audible world, waveless,
Bottomless, but brimming with an encouraging chorus
Of sounding night. Remembering which, in the swarm of
noon's
Tiny-winged exigencies, will flake apart the promise
Of it, lying in the sun like the pieces of some dream.
Paul Auster
NORTHERN LIGHTS
These are the words
that do not survive the world. And to speak them
is to vanish
into the world. Unapproachable
light
that heaves above the earth, kindling
the brief miracle
of the open eye-
and the day that will spread
like a fire of leaves
through the first chill wind
of October
consuming the world
in the plain speech
of desire.
