The Totality of Facts

The laughing gull that flew behind the fencepost and never came out was the beginning and then a hand smaller than my hand covered Wisconsin with a gesture for explanation. In the afternoon there are pauses between the words through which commas can grow like daisy fleabane. A fish with an osprey in its back emerges from the Sound and nothing can be learned by more analysis. The book of her hair opens to its binding and I leaf through the glorious pages of appreciation and that’s not all. We could not have turned fast enough to catch light and leftovers from so much of what happened: the swift figures behind you like a planet’s dark companion, ships entering and leaving the hall closet the real and imagined between which is no difference.