*
WHO SEES
I know the alphabet of loss
is like a man
who sees a woodblock print
each time he looks at a tree
whose yardstick measures all
the span
between his gaze and its
reality
his books are filled with
what he holds
between his gaze and what its
leaf forsakes
beside a shrine where waters
lapse to pray
his ego may not vacate the
years enough
the distance that only the
foreswear hears
can I detain the ruins a
little with my life
that toad whose aftervintage
pages vanish
laden with update escapes my
anon descends
flopsteps where I stand
sneezing into a crown
/
*
WHY
IS THE SKY BLUE?
Maybe
it's the blueprints
Which the
sky must use
To
build another house
To
move into since
It
must leave from here,
Leave its first home here
For
a second residence
Without parents,
Because
parents fall
With
the sunset each day,
They
abandon us all
Again
and again to
Night, or some bright new
Domicile. We cannot stay.
