Deep, Deep, Deep, Piled Mist, Dusk, Dusk

As if I’d known you, or you’d
Known me since, I think of you
More now that you’re so long gone,

Both of you, both lost to me,
This one who left both of you,
As if I knew what to do.

The one I knew first, the last
To go, gone when I had stopped
So much as notes now and then.

The one I should have known best,
Gone first, the one who feared age
More than death, swore to get out.

Strange now, that I’m the last one
Left to think of each of you,
That you went so fast in mind

For those I thought must have known
You those years since I’d been gone.
I glimpsed a boy with black curls

On a moon-hued beach at dusk,
A girl with her wild laugh calmed
On a porch rail in the fog.

Our Lives as Stacks of Pumps and Jars

You can’t know what can
Heal on its own, if
You don’t risk it won’t.

How should we not be?
Do you dream at night?
What did you just dream?

Gone, I bet. Is not,
That dream, the one you
Who was lost in it.

Leave it be. You can’t
Leave it not be, not
You. How could this be?

God Is Not

What is but what is not god,
The bits that aren’t lit with gold

At the edge, the bits that are.
Waves slosh back and forth in troughs

Of waves that serve as big tubs
For short waves, and as short waves

For the long ones. Yet god is
In here, as more than one wave

Has it, names it, or claims it
Is too vast a wave to have

A name at all, thus, a knot
Of no names that are not god.

I Ask You, How Much More Can There Be?

Moon, not half yet, just rose blue
As the sky its white hoop skirts,

As a long, brown bug with wings
Leapt down the trail and then flew

Straight up to that faint, day moon!
Well, you know. It looked like that,

The dark splotch on the white tulle
So high in the sky, then lost.

You can’t beat your point of view
For a world more weird than true.