what we build
with brittle sticks
and little scars
lingers
in the language
of trees
rests
among the secrets
of stones

we control nothing

stand on any shore
sights set to the horizon
searching for answers
but what we need

is not             touched by tides
is not             found in the sliding of the sun
is not             floating in the many blue notes of the sea

they remain
where they have always been
and where they always will

we woke
to winter weight

and silence
snow upon

bridgeandroofandroad
now the sky

a catch
of blue

pigeons punch
the sun

seagulls satellite
in circles

this carousel spins at perfect speeds

light is never
uninvited

love even
less so

we quick kicked thick
eddies of leaves

from skeleton trees
crows crack and scatter

frost kissed jack o lanterns
collapse

a swan wide winged
and wild

sunday church bells tell
the geese to arrow south

last night in bright papery bits
stars tossed and tangled

a moon collected upon the canal
i have no wants in this world

only this

today
the children asked
about the hollow bones
of birds
how long
it takes lava
to cool
through the din
and chaos
we brave
the rain
howl
at the moon
we crawl
through the mud
clutching
at mad relics
searching for clues
all this
to retravel roads
all this
to begin again

stirring my silence
with a spoon
i discovered this

deeper down
i found
different shapes
and colors

rinsing each
in the sink
i placed them
on the counter
to dry

later i rearranged
them slightly
and made this

the man
silver-haired

and tan
was wearing

a crisp blue
oxford shirt

a kelly green
silk tie

pressed khaki pants
and perfect

leather loafers
he tilted

his head back
and calmly lowered

the headless body
of the raw fish

into his mouth
fresh herring

bellowed the fishmonger
with obvious glee