My poor feet cannot stop
bewitched, like in a fairytale, cursed:
they cannot stop, so I walk and walk and walk
as if my head is no longer in charge
as if my heart might burst from
beating and beating and beating
This golden hour: cresting the hill
breathing molten light and
air electric between twin storms
air so clear it crackles in my lungs
Was I sleeping too long?
Where am I?
A wolf’s dogging my footsteps,
I hear him, throaty and relentless
breathing and breathing and breathing
maybe I’ve wandered into another realm?
Even my shadow, once so faithful, has turned away
nothing is the same anymore.
Awash in gold, in crimson, lost
October whispers my name — softly sings it,
sleepily dreams it
Alas, winter spins her frosty lace
warm-cool shivers feather my spine—
Our sighs paisley the morning air now
October slips, pink-cheeked. Slides headlong
through slick leaves: damp, brown— fallen, down
Tell me a story
You say, and I begin again.
The beginning, always my favorite part
sweet on my tongue, fleeting
But I am ever hopeful
digging now for middles and ends
that are deeper and darker
And boiling with life, like the depths
of a sea where lampreys
sway like seaweed, and dance
In the current and swallow
the silvery trout who swims too deep—
you might say the trout dies
Or you might say they become one?
There is no ending, is there?
It’s all a loop, this story—
It’s as endless as the sea evaporating
graying blue skies, falling again, rain, rain
pocking the choppy waves
Feel the spray on your face, wet as
the spit in your mouth, the blood in your veins
salty as the tears brimming
Below the surface, unshed, underneath
Tell me please, what really separates above from below?
If I dive in, will you swallow me whole?