Home Away from Home

 

No one goes there anymore.

Or bothers to call.

Only the moon stays up all night.

A blind man, waiting for daylight.

 

The days flow out at the hands.

The usual witnesses

ready to testify to the same events

taking place all at once.

 

Nothing changes, nothing stays.

So you get memories.

Along with the other diseases

that come on like long lost friends.

 

You owe nobody nothing.

You hold on.

And here comes the night.

A hollow stone over the graves of your neighbors.

 

 

 

In Memory

 

 

So I remember

this

 

big sky

shifting.

The grass twisted

stiff, where water trembled

in the cup of a lake.

 

Rock at the foot of an oaktree

as though it belonged there,

moss-soft on its cold side.

 

All told, it was autumn.

But the pines were singing and green.

 

Light everywhere.

And the part that was dark

a sound

I can hear now.

 

In Memory

 

 

So I remember

this

 

big sky

shifting.

The grass twisted

stiff, where water trembled

in the cup of a lake.

 

Rock at the foot of an oaktree

as though it belonged there,

moss-soft on its cold side.

 

All told, it was autumn.

But the pines were singing and green.

 

Light everywhere.

And the part that was dark

a sound

I can hear now.

 

Swing Song

 

Blue air

blue it's not

air it's not

 

blue

air

 

I've been there

before

 

Clouds

off the earth

flower

out of the dark

 

day color

dark follows

 

sheerblue

coast

dream

ceiling

 

before

I've been there

 

 

Stakeout

 

I never know when

I'm really asleep, I hope

I never know that

 

But when I slow

to a snail's pace

or raindrop's uneven

unforeseen track down,

 

The window

I'm not so sure

 

And now memory

shows me its face

a stranger I was not

sure I'd ever get to meet

 

You

before I knew you

 

 

Night Life: The Moon, with Crickets

 

1.

I almost want to believe it, when the lawn says

there are no ghosts, only crickets.

That makes sense, it's August

 

It's the fear you get, with a powerline cut

live and crackling without giving off sparks,

there's a mob of smart electrons about to cancel you out,

 

X marks the spot.

 

2.

Weird, how the dead right away start talking

then have nothing to say,

just when you're ready to listen.

 

It's the same on moonlit nights.

The same valley

with stones like rising bread.

 

3.

Away from the house, I can see

another life

in the glow from the kitchen windows.

 

Daybreak

after a night of insomnia.

 

Bones of my body

carry seed of this light.

 

Banked embers,

snapping

around me.

 

4. The silent grey

tar and gravel roadbed

has swallowed the last tires.

 

Pale in its terrible rigor.

Ice.

 

5. Not everything has a name to it.

Late as it is, I can tell where I am

by the x-ray. What little shows

looks new.

 

Bone by bone,

it's the night

stripped to a skeleton.

 

I know

I'm not ready yet

to start haunting my past,

 

still, just one step ahead,

the dice scatter and shake

like crickets

everywhere, next to my ear.