The New comes forward in its edges in order to be itself;

its volume by necessity becomes violent and three-dimensional
and ordinary, all similar models shaken off and smudged

as if memory were an expensive thick creamy paper and every
corner turned now in partial erasure,

even bits of pearly rubber, matchstick and lucent plastic
leaving traces of decision and little tasks performed

as if each dream or occasion of pain had tried to lift itself
entirely away, contributing to other corners, planes and
accumulated depth

                                                    *

the wing is not static but frayed, layered, fettered, furling and stony

its feathers cut as if from tissue or stiffened cheesecloth
condensed in preparation for years of stagework

attached to its historic tendons; more elaborate
the expansive ribcage, grieving, stressed, yet

marked midway along the breastbone with grains of light

                                                    *

there are two men, they are tall men, and they are talking softly
among the disintegrating cubes

III. WING: VIA VANVITELLI

It can happen that the intoxicating wing will draw the mind as a
bow        The cubic route of wing falls backwards with light
leaking through at the edge        The cube is formally particular
and a part of speech and lost        it looks for like kind,
regardless of function, and attempts to replace itself        The
square root of anything captures and holds, seeming to be final,
and we are grateful        We see the delicate marks along the
feather and we follow, now to define or depict the outskirts of
meaning        A plume of smoke or any of the growths which cover
the bodies of birds        To form a model of the wing's surface,
the cube arrives on a day called "the darkest day"        Its
likeness consists of strength, atonality, pigment, emptiness and
shafts partly hollow        I put my mouth just at the opening where
a steel edge gives way to an angle        from which light emerges
along its soft narrow barbs        If the wing had a voice it would
open through a shaft        I am not of that feather

V. COLOR: VIA DELLA PENITENZA

Even the New is attached or marked by attachment

the shimmer of wing, which claim may tell us everything
in a white blink

just as in troubled moments it disappears

              [A young girl in Arkansas, the quill of an angel in
              warm light, from orange and yellow regions, falls]

Waking touched

              [an angel stands in technicolor as cosmonauts look out
              on        Jet-liner wingspan        attaching itself collectively]

these retinal bodies larger, remarkable for their iridescence