The strain all afternoon whipping up ghosts, concerning itself,
As I am walking, if I will go on just because
I’ve yet to go this way.

The night sky prefers Euclidean simplicity,
Trestles of endless rust-colored dusk, and the savage good looking stars.

As for beginnings, as for setting out, what is there to speak of?
That frost knows more about fractals then I do,
Echoes are nests for sound?

I think we are all philosophers, and poor ones at that.
I think we are all arm wrestlers and tobogganists and of the future.

Always the strain late into the afternoon, as the moon wiggles out of itself, and is the first to
Thrust its hands into the sea.

When you were a kid and jumped off a garage roof.

Like thunder without handlebars.
Or the frayed seams of a school yard baseball.

In the uncertain terms of kite strings.
And a gravel road for theology.

How quiet quits the spindle, peels back the print.

Undone by becoming. Traversed by being.
Tipped over. In the end.

Into something so subtlety, and invisibly, forever.

Pinched

By an ecstatic height
Leaving legroom

For the sublimity
Of casting off

Lifted from the sun, the chariot,
As if drawn in pencil,

Revved up, but in the end
Misspelled like the rest of us,

Graffiti ribbons obliged
On the abandoned brick,

The spare parts of a spring rain,
Like the eyes of an android dove

Butterflied into the cosmos.

Patterns leak chaos

As they should.

A sweaty t-shirt is

More religious

Than a pew.

Haha!

A longing, distance-bit, piled

On the heart,

Disappearing

Between the fingertips of the moon,

Like the paint around the hand on a cave wall.

What feet, what stride

Will fit this excess of light?

The universe is a plane
Of four unequal asides

First Aside

The bedraggled charm of
Cut off shorts
And a lead pencil.

Second Aside

The shadows of poems
Are not the same as the shadows
Of poetry.

Say no to verse.

Third Aside

It will have to wait.
The waiting is the realism.

Fourth Aside

Very few clouds. Yet who can point at silence sufficiently,
Beautifully, like bells in the fifth dimension?