For we have thought the larger thoughts
    And gone the shorter way.
And we have danced to devil's tunes,
    Shivering home to pray;
To serve one master in the night,
    Another in the day.

short legs
patched jeans
kicking leaves
piled to my knees

remembering color
living in sea salt pines
leaves little to imagine
of autumn rhymes

sweetgum sourwood birch
sycamore and dogwood
apple leaves beneath the plum tree
ash hickory maple and oak
mountains afire in Tennessee

eyes closed
smell of smoke-
kicking leaves
to the wind.

r ~ 9/16/14

i remember the cut
on my knee
that God once kissed,
and how it tasted
agonizingly bittersweet:
like the start of time,
the stars exploding
as my wounds closed
up, like fire and rubble
and rock spinning aimlessly
around the great wide galaxy,
and i closed my eyes
and suddenly
i could see stars again
and i could see
You again.

The puppet strings
That light
Your banana yellow
Face strikes
A hollow pang.

Your roommate
Speaks with the gloomy
Eloquence
Of a Greek tragedy,
Or an American vision
Of a corrupted Greek tragedy,
Or maybe a lonely English
Counterpart well you get the
Point—

Two lovers
Wrought in silk and wool
Sweaters
Forever unaware
Of the fact that no matter
How devoted
They are to each other’s
Well-being,

Their eyebrows will forever
Never touch.

If we
Stepped back far enough,
I bet we could
Fit the Earth
In the far corners of our hand.

If we measured
The heavens just right,
And picked out the exact
Magnitudes, I bet you
We could do it.

Because I know.
Whether we know it or not
The distance between
Our hearts
And the very center
Of the universe
Isn't all that far.

We just
Have to find the right
Measuring tool for it,
And no,
The telescopes,
It won't do this time.

The galaxy we are shooting for,
It exists only
On the pinpricks of our fingers.
Its standard unit
Is that of closeness and
Of vast quiet.

I'll show you.

On the count of three,
I want us both to close our eyes
And whisper.

1...
2...
3.

See there?
There is home.
And you hold it
In my palms.

Somewhere
Deep inside me
I can tell you the reason
For why

Pawikans escape to the sea
Only to fiercely
Return home knowing
Imminent death—

And why minted Simoun
Returned home with weakened
Hands and shakily digs up
The remains of his young
Grave—

It's because
The heart that will not rest
Until it has cleared
Our good name
In the annals of history.

The name of a nation
Blotted with such
Scattered pride.