run-down asymmetries tainting the benches around the steel frame
they hang by their hands, screaming, in laughter and run
around as the day they were brought to this place
they turn each other’s bags upside down, scattering the entrails on the tile floor
they tie their shoes with pride – who knows what awaits the child
that does not know how to
anything could happen
like children kicking a ball around a school gymnasium in a small town
hitting the laddered walls, the ball reflecting in awkward directions
making for an unpredictable echo
all making a run for it

Turned around sitting in the grass
I got up the three steps
Sandals made a soothing noise on the stone
You sit there, at the far end of the bench
Seated in an air I’ll never comprehend
Under the burning bright
I fell backwards as I sat, backwards into your embrace
Now, my head in your lap and your hand in mine
The wind was passing and I followed
My closed, cursed eyes inundated in yellow and red
It’s not the kind that demands bursts of tears
But rather a sigh
Just the one

someone is tearing up my old street
putting in new pipes
but it belongs to me
I can’t help but feeling,
seeing - how the kids on the street would have felt
long before me
the turning of pages
the sidewalks are not what they once were, and the passing of time has tossed me
where are the kids now
someone turned and someone didn’t
all of their cats have died, all of their dogs have died, all of their dreams have died
the oldest of stories,
these trees are older than me and will outlive me, and we’ve been watching each other for a long time, every season we come more apart -
how they come, and how I realize
that they now belong
to someone else.
they wave at me, the new ones
they survive the flooding – moving the dirt around like it was nothing
the flowers don’t have a name yet
I don’t know what to call it
something like traveling and seeing death
something like a funeral for someone you haven’t seen in years
someone you didn’t know
these flowers don’t have a name
yet I want to call them something
like leaving home

the floor made a noise
it gave
and I was there, finally rested
finally ready to do it
for my mother, my father, my country
Thou Father
the troops are aligning
I hear them moving around downstairs as well as upstairs
it will commence soon enough
even sooner it will end again
we are all here, waiting
to be ready again
how they scuffle enrages me, who dares
halt, who goes
they have arrived
the oil lamps went out and the storm rolled open the windows
but let it be known, let it be written — we were ready
here it goes

you know me
now trust me
there is a house
where we all go
your mother’s family went there
your teacher’s sister’s family went there
your nephew’s cousin’s family went there
it is way out in the endless, sandy banks
they walk along the shoreline and collect rocks for jewelry and for windowsills
amber and pastel
pebbles
they eat the ***** and other beings from the sea
and when the late night comes along
the tide brings the house down into the rocky shore
Fare-thee-well
Will I see you there?

we all went running
as kids
along the steep
forest path
I was misguided, misled
so now, I run down here
I keep parallel, but there is
no coming back,
that I know of
a minor ravine ahead
that is where my path will
lead
and I am guessing
that all the little beetles
will come out to play and
to eat