Finding this Poem in a Used Bookstore and Reading it

I might not be here with you
the old drum in the mountain

stars living separably apart
eyes blooming out of the hay

likely to sneeze the sleep off the shelf
or the one after that

kindly breaks the void
and free rises in showers

into the warm garage where sits your heart
and my thermometer compact with autumn

that I am as good as watching you now
for all you cannot see me