Loom of Unseen Turns

A mirror

learns the shape of rain My name returns without its face Under

the floor, a silver

grain Begins to count the empty space There are rooms inside the

glass

Where the minutes fold their wings Every window holds another window Every

hinge remembers spring

I place my hand on common marble

It opens like a sleeping chart

Somewhere, underneath the table

A machine

repeats its heart

If I look too long,

the pattern looks back

A garden of numbers under the skin

The ceiling becomes

a revolving map

And I almost know where I have been

Hold the world to the water Let the hidden structure show

I was here before the border In the field where memories grow

All the doors within the mirror Open inward,

row by row

I am near and getting nearer

To the thing I almost know (ooh) (ahhhh) (ooh)

In the stairwell of reflections

Footsteps bloom without a source

Copper birds in silent rafters

Turn their heads toward the force

Ordinary cups and curtains

Wear the math of distant seas

Something patient in the wiring

Learns the weather of my knees

The black box sings in folded light

Its silver throat is turning clear

I hear my childhood out of sight

As if it has been waiting here

Hold the world to the water

Let the hidden structure show

I was here before the border

In the field where memories grow

All the doors within the mirror

Open inward, row by row

I am near and getting nearer

To the thing I almost know (ahhhh)

To the thing I almost know

Not lost

Only folded Not gone

Only unnamed

The room inside the room is opening

A pale equation in the rain

I touch the mark and do not read it

I let it vanish all the same

Hold the world to the water

Let the hidden structure show

I am near and getting nearer

To the thing I almost know

(ooh) Almost

know