Together, It's Nothing

Peter Giebel

The horse is only a theory, heads earthly,
duration is dust, notice dust, suggesting

direction, that not-direction, grammars
controlled, but over there into a pit we

drop enraged with weeds I don’t want
anything can’t bear anything I learn to
want weeds I learn the desiderata of
passing by and not accepting common
things the field of detergent and rot,

you see, information suspended,
refugee, four walls, I cull even from 
a sparseness, hunting, hunting what the hunter

does not know but the bleached white skull breaks
the day is not enough above a point vanishing