Rainer: In Conversation

I believe in a void that studders and lurches. A strobed dark. You will find she has come singing songs we have written. Riding the low…

I believe in a void that studders and lurches.
A strobed dark.
You will find she has come singing songs we have written.
Riding the low sound.
Foot after foot we’d follow on — just along the middle one.
Has your Easter wronged the dark and ancient deep?

The one that sips with roots plunged under me?
You’ve decorated in body, and a name, the nameless one — fractured it longways. Tonight, a woman finds god in a magazine and softly settles in to listen,
while the child treats a papercut from the bible or otherwise.