Before We Knew
All thought of consequence
melted with that first touch
of tongue to skin, no respite
to be found in that heat,
no shade at all. I recall
hitching a ride later with a
German couple who lit up
and passed the joint without
asking, and after their
Cinquecento sputtered away,
I walked down to the bar at the
waterfront for an espresso and
to watch the lights spark along
the bay. A few times a week
I'd see a boat putter in and tie up,
and the one-armed man would
display his catch or a carton
of bartered Lucky Strikes, but
not this night. The moon
weighed heavy on my shoulders
as I trudged home, remembering
the way you’d smiled and said,
from some place I'd never
witnessed before, come here,
now, as if I could have said no and
turned around, as if another urge
could have inserted itself
in that moment, in that life, ever.
Scarecrow Ascends
Fixed yet not immobile, I watch bits of me drift
over the wavering grain, a diaspora of disparate
selves once gathered. Some openings are blessings.
Others encourage dispersion. Yesterday’s coat-breech
is now a hole from which I trickle. Think of politics,
and how the tiniest crack may expand and engulf
its body, how one lie gains heft through repetition
at the expense of truth, driving fear. And to what
end? More wealth by exclusion? Power? Everything
dissipates. Even those mountains looming over
state houses, even the sun and its gravity, even your
idols and their power over reason. Had I no purpose
I would gladly rip open these rags and beg the wind
to carry me high, piece by fragment, to mingle with
the clouds and the rains to come and the refracted
light from afar, perhaps to glimpse something greater
ahead. Perhaps merely to dispel, to become undone.
A Step Closer
The difference in here
and there, a step closer to infinity
swallowing the clover and wild onion.
Not knowing, you shift purpose to intent.
Following the sun,
the flower sips light all day,
pausing only when I walk between.