Lie down; don’t lie; lie flat; lie still. See theseBooks bound in itching white leather? They areyour life. And each feathery page, lifted by hot wind.O summer air, o gardens, o seasons ô châteaux.The glaring day, it binds, o occurrence, o soil o soul. — Robert Fernandez, from “And,” PoetryNow (PoetryNow, 2015)