35.
Am I clear yet of the old diseases
it’s always too late to begin
to be a bird
a story out of a different miracle
pay me for what I don’t do
all poetry is blackmail she was sure
always a veiled threat
dangerous scent of wild roses
do something to something it always
says
I am what the author left out
more of an answer than a question
like most philosophy
what we don’t need is more
answers.
36.
Least eider paddling along the shore
find the secret roads in running
water
it goes by but they stay on
in the dark every house Altamira
walk with me the midnight hallways
down the cliffs and over sunken
meadows
and never reach the bathroom door
moonrise in the kitchen sink
Uncle Charlie keeps his specimens
awake
I rinsed the city and flew out to sea
Bristol of my fisherfolk Sandford of his
song
be my ancestor honey be my Palestine.
