to leave my father
sixty-five and giggling easily into death
my biggest nightmare
but i left because i’m nineteen
and i wanted to giggle violently into the city
my heart will lead me back in
she’ll greet me on the porch with a lantern and paper hands
i’ll be complete and surrendered
and i’ll do nothing for this world

People yawn
As they get swallowed up
By the coming tropic cascade-
The castles of the sea-
Of everything they
And all their ancestors
Have ever felt.

It proclaims nothing but itself,
They- them- they march
Through our towns like
Kinds, gods, destroyers.

They wash through our hearts
Like childhood
Young garden memories
And suburbs,
Vague houses.

We could never hold on,
And we hardly bow.

You’re safely unaware,
I can’t catch up,
It whirls my heart with it,
And takes it to the
Deep lavender east.

in this dark womb, it could be the center or it could be the skirt.
still glass case, nowhere else could work.
it pulled me back here.
meanwhile,
water from the forests falls into the air,
i feel it in my ancient throat.
i’m suspended.
rebirth.
bark peels, falls into wind like dead skin.
i am nothing.
slower.
i can hear again.
it doesn’t mean a thing
nor does it
not,
but
there is space.
hair blows slower like a heart.
heart catches in a slow web.
new nothing.
walk around the lake
don’t speak,
don’t even
see.