Two Sonnets

for Stephen Ratcliffe

Grey-green room into
One thought out the other
Remarks on color music
A skeptic’s ear can only render

Belief for the eyes all the times
Time becomes interesting
This interest itself a context
Of pulses and pulses circling

The face of all interiors
Grey-green room waves describe
Walls as gestures
All that interested him anymore

Were deictics like
Revolutionary categories.

It would be a word of interest
And sound would be thought’s mine
We wouldn’t stop pointing
Not at the body somewhere else

Nor at the bottom of bottom
In the staging of the real
The stage directions real also
A real finger pointing to an actual ghost

Of words a gas of vaseline
And ultimate animations cartoonish
Primogeniture where words
Can’t be put a point is a place for us

We too Banquo we too
Weather and a place to put it.