January 9th

He comes
Ah, like the far-off
Falling of water hoofbeats
On the Winter Roads then
Sweat and steam
Rising in waves off the
Bay's flanks

Now ~~

Waiting underneath
A presence of Newness
And Old, this bred
Precipice

That ~~ that is
Now.

Faintly, ever so
Faintly, it alights
Waiting. And Carolina. South
Carolina. Now here. Ah, now here. And
What is--someone breathes a
Harbor.

Now.

He dismounts in a
Bleary haze of his
Carried newness, muttering
Faintly under his knowing
Breath:

"Beauvoir, then. In Beauvoir. He lays."

Someone prays
Someone weeps.

The men drink and now
That precipice drops to
Unknown.
As he pushes the door
Open and catches the hints
Of Burning Anger and
Pride and Flags

~ Ah, and well then! Well as can be! Enough of this
Conciliatory nonsense, what are we? ~

Something New.

He takes the message.
Puts it on the table while his Bay
Breathes in the Stable.

~ Beauvoir then ~

Mississippi--
Whispers
Someone.