do we live useful lives
to say the beautiful things
...
to come into the world, to leave like snow
like leaves that blow is this a thing to wish
perhaps most devoutly
...
things that remain:
the recollection of the rain,
the sun through the screen door.
...
finding the door behind the door
we smiled in the garden
and were free of the mountain passages
...
dream heads upon the chopping blocks
or delved into we manage in the day to day
to hide our tears in the deluge
...
IF I LOSE THE WHITE SUN
if I lose the white sun
...
by next Spring you won't feel this way
when the flower snows lift off in the winds from the trees
...
to whom do words belong I cried
not to the prevaricating to the
ones with mocking eyes.
...
clouds have fallen into the waters
will their mamas rescue them?
what will the skies become now
...
show me Father how to say this
turn the stones to flowers in their hands
...