478 Readings | 3 Ratings


         Sometimes I heard the cranes coming
before I could see the men
who moved them,
and sometimes I heard cheering for the men
who moved them
and smelled the sweet alcohol of progress.
Sometimes I was in a room
a man made,
and sometimes I felt the last mote leaving
as a man destroyed
that room, and sometimes I was alone
in the times and spaces someone looked at
remembering that room,
or a point on the bristle of a small toy given
one lover to another,
and sometimes I stood upon something tall

the way sometimes the love of lovers does,
or I was present and absent equally
because there were always waters close by
that smiled
when the sun struck hard. Then sometimes,
actually a long while,
I was in midair, and a bird flew through
and I was in its heart,
I was its heart,
I was briefly keeping it alive
because without me there would have been
a hole at the heart of it.
Sometimes I was a latitude and longitude
only, 43.07828454104286
and -89.39136385917664, twenty-four feet
in the air
and attached at neither end,
and wondered where I was at and how long
I’d be behind it,
and what was coming over me, if anything,
and where that was now. Sometimes, I felt
waters come closer
and sometimes the skies darked the waters

and water moved through me
on its way to die.
Whether the things that could be said of me
could be said of anywhere
and of the times before and after mine
I wondered, and what that meant about me
and where am I
and hearts in birds and the height of things
and the shape of somewhere
I wondered,
and I wondered if it would have been better
to have been born

closer to the ground,
in some place more was being done to forget
how much of all that is is empty.
Posted 12/30/12
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