The Gift


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Ode to Forever Swirling Sunlight

My final notation will come
Close to silence, it will be subtle
It won’t take me long to write
Poems ought to come naturally
Like kissing and giving voice

To what burns to get out
It will take all of my heart
The beating poor little thing
That loved too much, with
All the breath in the world

It will be simple, in that
The final notation is always
Somehow about God
Who is as simple as
The universe, as fresh
As the cities of the future

My descendants will know me
By what I chose to say
What I never planned, but was
What I dreamed most
At the core of my ribs
I am coming to all the pieces

Of my life that led me
Divinity, the outstretched gift
That was a human life
Like a valediction of all virtue
And a forbidden taste of morning

Before I even got to undress
In the empty notations of the sun.

When My Name Was


20

Changing Destiny

In the epilogue of final exists
At the wild invention of stories
In the emergency of all narrative
Who will you decide to be?

In the immediacy of dreaming
Where only a few years count
How will you stalk destiny?
Dripping with the temporary

Appetites of mortality
What will you give your soul to?
The journey that is
Beneath velvet stars, points

ii

As tiny as infinity
Blindly feeling even thoughts
Your body pulling you
In mundane directions

The moon never did any good
Breeding, profit, mating, belonging
But is that all you were created for?
In half-lit houses we ache

iii

But do not know why
A quicksilver fluidity of the future
And the grave realities that contains
All of us in holographic form

Forever retrievable, forever
Exportable to baby-earths
An algorithm of small theatres
Beautiful framed by the prospect of free-will.

These long roads


90


These long roads

Ancestors, where did
You lead me? Did you know
That little by little
I would be the one to
Forget sacrifice? To falter

Because I was the one
To be too poor to procreate?
How can it be, that so many
Roads could be erased

My cousins have children
They do so without much thought
Without knowing, Fathers
Grandfathers, I can not
I hold onto everything

I thought that I possessed but
There are no foundations here
No courteous stability, I must
Learn to do without, descendants
They are in the distance

They are not descended from I.

Wasn’t the Road Filled With Eternal Welcome?


22

Telling you all would take too long
About the wholes and misfortunes
These breakthroughs through errors
A memory more persistent than love

But I’m okay, perhaps our lives
Are no more than the fire’s reflection
Complicated by Plato, flabbergasted by Nietzsche
I must sing the years full of
Sweet abandoned voices

Places I have been, what I have seen
Vulnerable in the public squares
Telling you all would be seriously wrong
We have our special secrets, our wanton surprises
The double anguish, wounds that

Won’t probably ever go away
Prisoners, genuine humble pilgrims
I want no descendents, I want
No shadows in their blood
No more serotonin misfits

Tell you all would mean mourning freedom
And I don’t mind being alone
For in solitude I’m always in ecstasy
Always writing poems to nobody.