Wednesday, December 25, 2013

like smoke

Cross one more off the calendar, wait in vain for the waning moon. The stars dust the needles of the broke back pine as the neighbor's dog just barks and barks. Check the locks on the constellations while all the planets wander just enough for them to earn their names.  Watch them to see if they acknowledge how far they are from might have been. The moment, then the moment passes. The candle, then the flame goes out.

I am the drag upon the bindle, the ease of breathless air. The arrow loosed into the heavens, the target's eye always wide with such surprise. The drawn flame through the kindling, the gossiped smoke of every breath. I wake each day with this puzzle of why the puzzle deserves to be solved. The clouds that break before they gather, the darkness no different until the dawn. I write the words with the skill of dropped breadcrumbs, all the wander in the world lost on me. The weight of witness in its passing. Each skin shed to save itself.

The days turn and tumble, the earth worn with walking, the key lost to the sky. Look towards the horizon as the world falls away. Watch the rising of the tides and the melt-away moon. The night awash with dissonant longings, shouts and laughter rippling through the wind. The sounds of ache and the sounds of traffic. Destination soon the only name. Out in the dark I kick up some small ruckus. This fire lost long before you see the smoke.

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