You are myself.
I am the ghost in the twilight forest.
I am the advice you seek for your job.
Desperately seeking resolution.
Desperately seeking the voice in the hills.
You seek temptation.
You are temptation.
You rise out of the temptation of it all.
The color of noise.
The rudeness, the awakening, on the back of old
The back of old wildflowers.
Goodness, you seek. Old sordid news.
Borrowed and faded.
Times will not bend.
My ears have been slammed against the window.
The window opens and shuts.
I am the opening and shutting of the window.
I am the sordid tears.
The widow who keeps forgetting nothing.
I am the forgetter.
I am insolent. A dumbwaiter.
We are the thinkers. We are the whisperers.
The wanderers of shadows becoming,
The feeling of it. The righteousness. I am myself.
I am the hood of myself. Thoughts flood tender gates.
Gates move the wind. The wind is water. The ocean
Doesn’t know where it ends, its polar opposites.
My mother said not to take me back.
The boat flies out of the shore. The shore of the mouth.
He thinks he is not home.
His mind is somewhere else. He forgets. He is always forgetting.
His words are round and sheltered things,
He is an ocean of voice, of truth-
We are books and books live on forever.
Forever we speak. Forever we glean, sheen, disappear-
Fade forever from wandering dreams.
You think you are lost.
You think the dark is lost. That I am nothing. That humans are nothing.
The race is nothing but splendid colors.
None sees. We do not see. Nothing sees anyone,
But ourselves wrapped in ourselves. We carry a package
Up the stairs and place it at the foot of the stairs.