Baroque madness of privacy, fear-wrought.
new grammar of distance. They will write that we became
recluses in a land of hoarded locks & locked splendor.
Voices voicing voices. O Florida, the placenames on the
maps whisper secret histories old tongues other worlds. I
Feare my Touchstone touches when I try/ Me
touchstone the tongues the other worlds We have feared
& resurrected towers out of it. Cypresses, cathedral-like,
with a certain watery majesty. Once lost, Nature turns
narcissistic, emblem of unbearable beauty.