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Testament What’s the difference? You might wear it out touching, touching, not buying Like a snail on a stick, you, slow over it with your tiny mouth, never biting Spiral: the eye, the head, the repetition of thought—omen omenless Things— soft, hard, book, milk, rogue wheat in the drive, pidgeons and all—just this world and ourselves in it The holy is otherwise, nowhere Where the not-fog waits in the no-valley Testament Fear of loss is more common than loss, a clear stone that tumbles against its brothers, a filament spun from unpronounceable metals which enters a hole, fissure, a tiny camera that swims, radioactivity that sprinkles a map of mystery Now I see so many little doors I know we can’t contain it, blood’s push which purifies and cannot Dear fear, hot piece, are you machine, animal, ghost?