Friday, November 21, 2014

A Sailor's Wife's Lament

Ships upon the ocean, ships upon the sea

Thursday, November 06, 2014

anthony, saint of lost things, part II

1
there was an afternoon halfway gone
late this October
when the gold of the trees matched the gold of the lawn
and stepping in front of the window you were stained
like a saint in cathedral light
except
that windows glass is forever long, and its hardness high-off
soft, slowed to its near-frozen frame
by Murano's cautery.

will you flare out today
weightless as leaves? the seasons always are like
"hey, life goes on." they crawl into you like morality plays, show
their reliquaries, chalices, veils, tears of blood, slivers
of the one true cross
slivers of that cross stay in you a long time
even when you pass
the portions of life which cannot
be noticed in their
going on

goodbye in all its forms
two subjects will sometime say
but the branch
and the leaf
never one do never
really part, since what is their story
but on and on and on?
and real things never do resolve

2
i got this impression on this October afternoon
like the kind of information that gets passed on from someone to someone
without a source
it was as if there was a rumor going around that this would be the most perfect afternoon
i would ever see
and because that had nothing to do with me, on my side of the window,
well, it sounds kind of weird, but that was the actual reason why my own life
eventually becomes one of the lost things