Come hither, anyway, hide your pain in the cup/ of my hands, find that reprieve from a judgment / of endlessly inchoate loving, and let your heart/ rest from its ceaseless running. Escape stops here. ---From "Go Then, So You Can Come Back"
wherever I know you will wind your way
coming home. It is a long route back.
bluffs we run to when we retrieve lost
memories that somehow remain clear:
on our flushed faces. We will not forget.
We are condemned to remember. Always.
where you could trill all you want or can?
again, your refrains brave and true again?
that the day’s night must bring a sunrise
where you will fearlessly sing your song:
of crushed stones, jagged pebbles
and the craw-sticking bone chips
that remain from downstream
sieving for the one golden nugget
that was never there. I thirst still.
with our windy spaces, now left
as frozen wind tunnels when you
abandoned the cone-strewn trails
for your will-o’-the-wisp: a full
bowl of nectar laced with laughter.