Furthermore there are degrees of silence. There is a silence in the beauty of the universe which is like a noise when compared with the silence of God. —Simone Weil
i. clematis
fire-echo
cold
oyster-frill
the lip
brushes—
pulse
defer(ence)
pursuit’s
very outset
a flame
bone
winnowed
to
the eye’s gill
ii. lenten rose
modest atomy
discharged
a bare voltage
sleek saint
of perish—
alludes
to splay, but
enucleated
at last
the trine eye
expedient,
even exorable
lobe of
chilled milk
slipped
beneath try—
