blue
skies
below
autumn
arches
—passing
falling
)roaring,wide
whitewater
&cross
narr
ow
br
idge
—stepping
over)onto
hill,bright
sunfall
green
field
a sense of
wonder,no
empty?no
vast,or
memory perhaps
)a scent of
the sky
—some
timesas
if from
the end i
imag(e)in(e)
we are wa
tchingour
selveson.vcr
)distorted
+tracking/b(l)ack
failure / snow
lines mar our
faces
absurd,really
to see now as
a decomposing
video tape,no?
Especially during the day.
who were we,a
nyway,a ll those
yearsd ucking und
er fences ,storm br
ewing off a darktwilight
sky
You know the leaf-whirling
,chilling kind I mean.which
you turn up you r collar through
and push on toward bright home.
but we were small and
did not yet know of
forgetting.
The beyond new some day
lost in tumbling nowmoments
(of a hand on a hip,
a wind from atop a cliff
)a regret ,lost.knickknack.of
pasthood , found and remembered
&savored as so much sweet
forgetme(k)not tied as tongues
)a fire that did burn,then
in our smaller souls
as with all things, ended
&now the storm and the bright
field are the same here, and now
in our hall where exist skulls
which have crumbled
to dust ,we wait
for the evensong
splitting nightday
into sheets we recognize,b(il)lowing
at a blu
e sky ,