A Vulnerary

for Robert Duncan one comes to language from afar, the ear fears for its sound-barriers— but one “comes”; the language “comes” for The Beckoning Fair One plant you now, dig you later, the plaint stirs winter earth… air in a hornet’s nest over the water makes a solid, six-sided music… a few utterly quiet scenes, things are very far away—“form is emptiness” comely, comely, love trembles and the sweet-shrub