spring
thinking about eunuchs
which may be absurd since
I never had what they lost
but still.
also railroad tracks, unused
for years
also the pattern spilled
birdseed makes on the porch floor:
a means of divination,
surely, if I could read it,
and punctuation. did you know
they didn't used to have it? but somehow
managed.
a tooth is sort of shaped
like a wooden clothespin, the kind
without a spring.
now I've done it. It is dead
ugly winter and I want spring
so badly it's a sickness
like a missing body part.
possibly how a eunuch feels.
This Is For All
For all of everything that is
not in books, nor on the internet,
all the wild truth only to be found
under our shoe soles on pavements or
in the desert, sand underneath bare feet
on a beach, washing out the way it does
all around the foot so leaving a little hill
right under the center of the sole and you
can't help but wiggle a little then to make it
go flat.
Or in the woods, where you really
have to spend some time paying attention
in a way you never could learn to do in any
school unless you are ignoring the teacher
with great commitment so that the air stops
being so shy and begins to whisper to you
directly.
For all of this, I offer thanks.
For you, you truths, you body of being
here. We have ignored you for far too long.
Please stay with us, we need you desperately,
stay like the trees do and the rocks. How sad
we have become without you.