VI
Jets fly over that moat
Our feet propped against the edges
Grow into the ground Moving
Neither forward nor backward We look
At the sky where jets
Draw light feathery lines
That moat between us
Ignores jets are alone
Alone in ourselves A shadow falls between us
And our fingernails Myhand
Is not me Suspects
Tangle themselves in statements
VII
What was I doing a year and a half ago?
I ate dinner in town Took a shower
There was a heat wave I read the sports news in the papers
At one or two I turned on the television
I have witnesses A rocket was launched
From Cape Kennedy And that is heaven above
The living dead and unborn can confirm it
That didn't last long The acacia faded
They will return Because they already returned
On the night of the seventeenth of July
I looked at the moon Through wild grapes
Through the train window
Aldrin and Armstrong can confirm it
The Head Manager of the poem demands
The train ticket Excuse me
