i've gotten used to the heartbreaks the semi-frequent reminders of you now they are a part of my day the new way my heart beats
at the stretches / vast edges of the universe touching blurry cusps of existence life wriggles from behind a telescope and sits down at the desk to write. in this moment evidence of a beauty (who has gone away.) bending with the curve of time. the secrets of the moon.
if the house if you live in the house or condo or hut or tent or street (because, we all once came from the house) if the house burnt down what would you remember? what would keep you on the verge of tears what would keep you from spilling and poring for answers what pile of ash would be your family portraits grandpa's violin christmas cards head tax receipt lost belongings. proof of life. proof of belonging. what would be left if the A-frame closed in on itself, if dad could not save the roof with a hose if water lost to flame would the sidewalk bare ashen prints ? or would thebroken lot bear ferns & grass. & seeds. &vines þs &twigs &trees, your ruins & flowers
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting- over and over
announcing your place
in the family of things.
i told you this loss was like my own only: that's not true, i have not been through the deep hollow grooves of infinite sorrow, Not swam under the darkest seas looking for lost love, i am without scar tissue where my chest had been, trying to squeeze into that nothingness no, chilo, i am only a witness, an onlooker, a bystander and though i feel for you put my words and hands out to hold your pain, i can not feel it like you do.
i look at you from across the room because it is easy everything is perfect from far away but the closer i get the less i can pick out those ugly things i imagine for when you walk out of this room (my mind) can find a peace which will substitute for the fear of your freedom to leave and i'll hold a love with no end and no beginning.