Shut up: to be alone is to be alive,
To be alive to be a man –
Even hazied, even queasied by this madsmash hinterland,
Lost and locked in the sky’s asylum eye.
This is my prayer to the air
To which I turn and turn expecting news or ease,
Nerves minnowing from shadowhands
Toward shadowlands inside of me. This is my prayer
To be of an under a human-scale sky,
To suffer a human-scale why, to leave
This blunt sun, these eternal furrows,
For the one country that comes when I close my eyes.