Looking out across paddocks I fall

silent. Here is the expanse I wanted

inside myself.  I am looking forward

to an unbroken horizon the sun
has disappeared behind. Say, I try

to fly there, opening and closing

a little wingspan of speech, wind-

blown pages from a broken spine.
I try

to fly there, opening and closing

a little wingspan of speech, wind-

blown pages from a broken spine. 
Say, I try to say

my first name backwards.

Or call Now by the name Then,

and it does not come.