Off the Ground, All At Once

In the quiet,

our horses are awake

I hear their breathing

they wait together

for the sound of our footsteps.

Which ones are true?

These versions of you,

cast out on a hook,

with a line?

Drawing a map,

drawing me near

but I was already here,

watching clouds gliding slow

over indigo,

bathed in silence.

An array of equipment at hand

A sextant, compass,

and survey views.

A light meter.

Switching lenses

Saving pages

from a field guide to the trees

of the Southeast.

I set aside

the cover of a decayed paperback.

A picture

from this flow of imagery

from the flow of the stream,

Paper and I.

Don’t go.

Look up,

and note

the soft glow

that kisses

in slow motion

a cloud’s lace edge

Separate plus separate

equals: star

Cafune stirs and shakes her mane

They touch noses

Why did your last goodbye

have to be so cruel?

Why pose the question?

My fortune only says

that time

is a flat circle,

pulling focus so far back,

our existence is rendered meaningless.

Fortune extinguished.

With eyes of flint,

you spin a flat circle

a toy, a top

turning

looking away

from time’s gaze,

the center of the eye.

Even that time

when you weren’t staying,

after all.

The last time I saw

your face: feral,

behind those twin tides

of glass that glide

over your head

my hands and arms invisible

your eyes wouldn’t look at mine

you went down for the last time

behind the windows of the soul

and fled

I swam to my door

by starlight,

with this Last Known Photo.

It doesn’t look like You.

Cast your eyes, please,

across these contact sheets

of Muybridge gingerbread men.

I love you.

I love you, again and again,

all of these,

not the tension that doesn’t ease.

Can you tell me

which you was true?

Off the ground,

all at once?

……………….

This was my favorite:

“Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire.”