MY ACHES TELL ME SOMEDAY THE WORLD WILL BE THOUGHTFUL

I get lost sometimes

in the word imitation

the trees multiplying

confound me

the three suns

speaking through

crossed branches

I never knew

these woods

kept so much junk

of farm rust or crab

apple mountain rock

and this tree here

crooked in its long life

thinking it was

only a giraffe mis-

placed in the old

hands of New England

not a chair not a

letter in my name

not yours

IT IS PERMITTED TO SAY I LOVE YOU

There is a hole

in the trees where

the street was made

and from these

front steps I can be

in its heart

for some hours

following the sun

down or rather

over to the shade that waits

for us at the end of a day

to say sorry I have lived

inside you until this

moment and now

it’s time we go visit

other peoples

other places unlike this and

go inside

but until then I will sit

until this cigar

has smoked through

and this coffee is only

grounds sitting quietly

at the bottom being

with you though you

make me seasick

maybe not seasick

just too warm and

too lonely and just a little

too pure