Lauren Camp: Emptiness Prayer for Agnes Martin

Strewn heat lingers
on the landscape, doing

and fills in
the gaps with less

and years and finally. In weeds,
a flirtation of wind;

slight shaking,
promise. Light vaults

again which is
consolation, desert-full

of its rows and spill.
She in her large

silent body disappears
into practice while
ravens circle

with longings. So impractical
how she writes

her furniture
with fingers, a pencil, pocking

a picture; she is living

in a dirt hut—
living on
the wall, a severance

of space. Sturdy,
rehearsed. The foreground

lucid and the entire
place is
what she can find, not an edge
but a whole

of margins.