If My Glasses Were Better, I Could See Where I’m Headed For
Autumn is over us, leaf blowers
Whine in the wind, vans wail, the heart makes scurrying sounds
As though preparing itself to start out on a long journey.
It wants to carry us with it, safe in its damp folds.
It wants to carry us, one by one.
Birds split and the ants go south.
The weevils turn in their sleep inside the red doors of the trunk.
House fly and bumblebee carcasses drain in the sun.
Words stuttered by hand.
Gates of mercy.
Time after time.
As for me,
I’ll put on the pilgrim slippers some of these days
There, where all things are forgot.
Till then, I’ll see that the grass gets mowed.
Till then, I’ll check out the cloud’s drift, and the season’s drift,
And how the days move, one at a time,
always at night, and always in my direction.
Page(s) 65-66
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