the resonance which makes the falling land
seem to fluff;
the imposition on the small self image of man
by the struts;
the welcoming spread of well maintained grass
from above;
must include something that drinks of the glass
until full but leaves love
it seems to go on forever
the moss and the blame and
this land of the skeleton frame
and the pull of the traffic and weather
but rest assured my friend
look long enough, and it ends
weird.
i can see the lace in the curtains
in condos and co-ops on streets across town
but the fog and the river
i find myself swimming
through and against and around
just eludes me
a picture is eventually allowed
i draw a cloud of arms
just holding, directing and
shouting out loud but
not without charms
and certainly not proud
with bars and with salt
but no cages or fault
what the sky lacks in size
it makes up in disguise
imposing long lines
and the limits of time
part tall, part crossed, heart wide,
all found after low tide
as the clouded mind is lost in the weeds
the coverage recedes
and the true shore’s revealed
industry! industry!
talk about pull!
talk about all of the landmines to fill!
into adventure
a moral code is slipped
its forehead kissed
and sent away for life
and every day forever
remembered just like this:
lost,
but tethered to a trail
above a river, a marvel
in love, soft focus,
a cunning guide
for paths of light
hugged by a far off pull
below in patterns, an ambling
of frost, seven ducks
in narrowed eyes
consider night
led by a close caring
currently the new year rolls in
but had you gotten up high enough
weeks ago
you would have looked east, and
felt it, if not seen it
this cyclic existence is something to
break from,
but facing the wave
so many hear, “stay”
stay cool
stay moving
return to the breath
twice a day, at random, say “non attachment”
realize you’re seeing things as you are
but there are ways around that
should you
need
they bump and crawl like
so many these days
inch and inch and
occupy and wait
furrowed brows in the crowd
create desire paths
when followed
through gifted wakes
the air will lift the last of the atmosphere up
track it with your eyes
into the slate gray wild
and mark the underside
everything that remains
will be on sale.
the counterweight is a memory
that pushes down on the arc
the world buckles
and is spied on both sides
Sunshine and Wind 