Where Somewhere Is
Does a Bird ever fly the
SAME again,
After its feathers are ruffled?
Does its song ever sound the
SAME, when it’s not
About — you?
Will other winds come
Flitting up under her wings,
Flitting up like other kisses —
Like other words, from other lips,
In Other shades, or other tunes,
Other winters, other Junes?
Will the seasons change the SAME,
Now that everything else has?
And when? And if?
And where?
And how will I Know?
And will it
Be as sweet as the sounds —
I Wrote — for you?
Maybe I stopped drinking coffee
With creamer because
The Sun isn’t here anymore
To make it the SAME old hue
I thought I knew.
So I ruffle, recover, straggle on —
To other shades, other tunes,
Other winters and Junes —
Wondering where Somewhere is,
Departing December.
Forecast
Maybe it’s just —
That the moon isn’t the same
Color over there, over there —
Over there where you are —
(Isn’t it funny, how I make
It sound — like you’re a soldier
‘Cross the sea?)
Maybe it’s blood-orange there,
But opalescent here —
And maybe that makes the shadows
Darker, or elongates the stars
Until they’re golden threads
In a Gordian labyrinth we can’t even
Make pictures out of —
No pictures, no pictures —
Oh, I hate not having pictures —
And no notes! Not a single note!
No ties and no calls,
No sailing at all —
Oh no, not in weather
Like this.
Maybe I’m the soldier,
‘Cross the sea —
And maybe it’s safer here —
Away from wars I know —
Would kill me faster.
And I’d sit up all night — to untangle
The star-threads, but part of me
Knows that the Moons
Must
Stay
As they are
In times of War we don’t understand,
In Weather like this.
For Now
For now —
It’ll be coffee stains,
And cereal,
And walking in
The rain —
Clearing out,
And finding time,
Making time,
Sitting under yellow
Lights — fuzzy lights —
Drinking coffee —
Scribbling
Out attempts
To feel at home —
Or understand —
Falling asleep,
Dreaming of
Things —
That feel
Like home.
For now, it’ll be
These things —
Until it isn’t.