since the onset of october’s indelicate sprawl
the great moon laps my turning as i go
with the seasons unprepared
the only way down the stairs
descending
with blistered eyelids turned up at orion
i have collected all of my yesterdays
and tied a lasso around the great hunter’s bow and arrow
there is snow on the turtle’s back
you need not speak of goodness
i already know
it is not an act of will or a natural flaw
it is circumstance
and i am but a tension that has been given form
swinging on a branch
i pass the time, terribly
still stood in the age of the tambourine song
the sonic plane muffles as i try to remember
the ripened leaves beginning to litter
the cemented path on the side of the street
i turn up my palms and i wait for the music to have me
someone is here to take me back
the shot of a gun
a line pulled straight through
to the only sound i hear when my eyes beg re-focusing
an empty ear
a ringing
a coiling that tightens
the further i go
reducing
i was a kid kicking up dirt
the ground has shifted
i could not be predicted
the black dog barks
and i remember
that it had taken the house and the hill and the lake
there is no coming to and no going from
no one to have
nothing to do
with my hair hanging low
no longer where you used to be
the day i do not witness knows how long to take
spring, it comes
i went back to the old house
along the factory wall
as an apparition
in the shadow of the streetlight
much has been said about the door
where the morning still comes to without promise
and the wind blows the balcony open
in courtesy of you
from where i am
i see only the tops of trees
naked and petrified
car doors slamming and on the way to someplace different
a bow and arrow abandoned at the edge of the street
the overhang weeping
god’s hands wandering
the golden bell ringing down the hall
is a residual afterthought
in the case of the door that’s closing from inside the house
a bleeding tongue
a good man’s son
inevitably withdrawn
so it goes
and the steady hum of the radiator
plays in exact intervals
syncopated
does not ramble
does not possess intent
are you going steady?
do you have what you need?
the outside is mute from behind the glass
it is sobering