By | 15 July 2006


One could fall asleep and float
a hundred miles off course,
or rob a restaurant in broad daylight,
or weep openly on the air.

Contretemps could snap the line
that anchors date in memory,
uproot the smell of eucalypts,
or debauch a shadow from its leaf.

Mockingbirds from Texas range
no farther north than this
chill suburb in which we sit
talking of where to go in Spring.


Fear derives its force
from love: its own effect,
love radiates
from where I am
to where I'm not.

It amplifies, a hooded wave
racing through the dark.


On bare walls
the daylight rings
changes of

is on its way
to somewhere else
but walls.

Across an inland
sea of grass,
nothing stops
the sun

but cinder blocks
and cottonwood.
I wonder where
you've been.

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