Be vast beyond the trees. Be transparent.
The dusk was good. You cavort. I am shy.

Give the sky a backward glance, whose crescent
eyes all these road-signs miss but don’t know why.

So what? – a phone will start ringing, humming
about the rain. Word! you say, the devil

will die – but not like this. There’s a graying
vapor, nameless, across the water; dull

with no words left. For how long will you go
without luggage, shoes, road-signs? You can see

through me. I love symbols, signs. Rise. Again,
press your face to mine under the sky. Glow.

Call me Morning Star. In the receiver
you can just hear a busy-sound, like rain.