O the world  	O found child      O the days 
	and nights 	these laments are all 
		for you      O empty noon 	O nothing
	comes from this  	
		  	these are the exercises
		this be the beginning  	     this be bricks 
	and mortar and those joints the clef
		whereon we hang our notes

	these be the scales  	O oriole on the sill 
these be the reasons and we name them
	these be the flowers	these
		the small oooos	how after can I 
	be better   	O abandoned    O warehouse
		O broken windows and wind
	O breath across the bottle’s mouth
						O you 	
	
answerer of questions unasked  
		they say O so big
		they swallow us
	sing the wind the bullet-holed 
		windows	the tracks 
			between the toes  O the soft
	elbow’s fold 	under the arms
		O the under the tongue tracks     O 

	the hole in the rust yard	the whole sky  
they lift they train	      O they bird 
	by the vacancy panes	        O blow
		across the hole in Jesus’ palm
						Oooooooo
			
			be the open window	O well	    
		the bottom of the sea
	is empty	they say sing		
they say be the gulls  	
	they say O	he’ll come tomorrow
					Oh well
			please  sing please	

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