A Song to Dallas
______________
I know your cracked earth and
Southwest sky. The buildings
in the faraway haze my first
compass. You are like a lover or
a deity: aloof. Unknown but familiar.
The black spaces below your overpasses
and the clockwork of ten thousand
casually furious cars. What you taught
me: how to be sad wherever I am,
how to remember pain and man's
artificial masochism. How to want
Truth.
Severance
__________
The dog lies collapsed on the side
of the road, folded in on itself like an
old blanket set aside for no particular
purpose. Somewhere a woman is
upset because there is a dent in
the right front bumper of her new Lexus.
Thought
________
Awake, trying to find something
that approaches Truth. Turning over
old poems, old conversations, shaking
the dust of a former ignorance.
My mind is a mold I cannot feel.
It is a container that breaks itself,
hunting the sharp horizon
in the vast expanse of the known.
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