by spoonlight, the sifters
under predation risk surface incision

(it) passes through everything
like a skeleton key

"From March 1979" by Tomas Tranströmer 
 

"Weary of all who come with words, words but no language
I make my way to the snow-covered island.
The untamed has no words.
The unwritten pages spread out on every side!
I come upon the tracks of deer in the snow.
Language but no words."


Translated from the Swedish by Robin Fulton
 

 the unidentified visitor

 tell me all about your day