Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Why sleep?

Tomorrow is a charging bull
a coming storm
a terrifying thing.
Hide from it, under blankets, turn off lights
perhaps this time
you can avoid it.
too much is behind
lost
beckett lived when I lived
but never met me
nor wrote me
nor of me nor to me
and his death i missed
in all languages

what is the word for
that
for this
for just lost, recently, not recently, but too recently, too quickly
what wondering
squint for it, the proper word
won't help but
squint
see
other words for
waiting wanting waltzing
dance into songs
some recent
some long
longed for
Ancient Roman songs
all Ancient Rome is gone
but remembered
is it remembered? In a dream of songs.
lost songs hummed in a field
heard by bees
echoing in the earth
in ruined structures
ruined meadows
empty hives

the lenape
still alive
speak umi
now
what words are those
never speak to me
my name
never of me
my name
not here
where I am
where they lived
but here
where I am
and they live

not in my carrot patch
the lenape
the chickasaw
but in this place
many are
and have been
and are gone
and are not gone
this turtle that does not swim
but waits

I have a book of photos
with no names
family I never saw but
can see
who
never saw me
spoke me
did not conceive me
though they did indeed
conceive me
as they wandered like moses
from coast to coast
of this turtle
but never saw paradise

did they shed tears
looking over new lands
Are tears for what's
behind
for wondering?
Where could you have stopped, have stayed
in the desert
ceased wandering
and not missed
so much

Monday, April 7, 2014

so much is just behind
just lost
beckett lived when I lived
but never met me
nor wrote me
and his death i missed
in all languages

what is the word for
that
this
what wondering
squint for it
won't help
squint
see
other words for
waiting wanting waltzing
dance into songs
all recent
even roman songs
lost songs
hummed in a field
even the lenape
still alive
still speak umi
what words are those
but
never speak to me
never my name
not here
where they live
but i live

not in my carrot patch
the lenape
the chickasaw
my great uncle
or any other book of photos
with no names
family i can see
never saw me
wandered like moses
never saw eden

the tears
shed on the mountain
looking over new lands
are tears for what's
behind
where could you have stayed
in the desert
and not missed
so much