Are the woods still there? The woods were still almost there.
The heavy moon’s already almost halved itself, the month’s almost passed. I saw
a cat huddled, early this morning, by a headstone like a ghost, almost like
a ghost. I’ve almost seen a ghost any number of times. I’ve almost tried to believe
what I’ve almost seen. I almost saw a black-winged bird but it wasn’t a bird.
I almost whistled for it. I was almost in tune. Later I went by the stream that is almost
a river and I walked in the water and I almost swam. I almost stayed to wait
on shore. I would have almost liked to do that. There was almost something sweet
about it. Sometimes I hear a high slow whine and it is almost my little dog
crying, and then I see the semi-, massive through the window. The moment when Argos
finally dies, relieved, always almost destroys me. I can almost see what this says
about me. I almost write almond instead of the word that I want and at the same time
my hand gestures in the almost-dark and she turns to me with a look that is
almost like silence and almost like light.
