Lost Way to the Sky
tiny poems by Grant Hackett
12/4/16
and yet who has noticed how the one left behind becomes the final light
10/25/16
how near to what my heart has done is the warmth of the stranger's mouth
10/19/16
why the sky wanders has never been born
10/18/16
who will guide us through the days ahead is to live newly awakened
the sleeper under the pine remembers what is young the dark that steps out at dawn
10/15/16
the way the last walk hurries grass is where the ash of the rose will fall
silence into water into blood into light is to ask a simple question
how old shall we be when the white sail of the moon leads October through everlasting change
9/30/16
what if the other side of humankind is only thinner air
if you have made me small enough the whirl wind must
what has died is kept in this city in ginkgos along the streets
9/13/16
the memory i left in another place is it destroyed, or sleeping
9/11/16
a night train rises up inside of sleep carrying the one left behind when we were born
9/8/16
year after year of pokeberries :: their ripening barely heard
9/6/16
in the pure mist of a distant mountain the nest not seen for years
when night is full of holes will i see what is in me from the first day of living
9/1/16
can a pine from the sea ever fall to the earth
if light is grave and motionless there is no distance to lying down
what i do not have looks for me :: and there is no place that is not someone else
8/31/16
time has come for that bit of life gone missing to turn my cornfields pale
8/23/16
windowpanes across a whole life overlooking the mists and cliff
8/22/16
even a heart in the hands of its children will grow snowy white
8/21/16
does the rainbow over the weak of the earth end in iron
on the eve of the blue why do violets grieve
8/20/16
though the water is down on its knees :: many pass in a dry rain
4/25/16
my heart walks in sunlight and feels itself fade—
while chimes turn wind
into creation
4/23/16
from my window i studied mulberry branches—
dormant rhythms of nights and days,
of unrepeatable worlds to be
4/22/16
the sole of the foot
treads on beauty—
those smooth tracks
across the sea
i couldn't
have made and
cannot follow
4/21/16
under other skies
is there deeper longing
for the damp electricity from which we come
4/20/16
i hear the blood ask us
if we are alive—
the heart remembering what it does not recognize
Vanishing points
where the apple tree rose
from the earth
when i learned to live as a soul
4/19/16
a memory that opens the road is what we want :: honey drawn raw from the moon
when the windows of the bonfire seethed open :: not one of my old failures was there
4/18/16
that hollow in the west where the sun dissolves :: salt gathering in the ripples of life
winds hang silent and limp in the rain :: lives lived without having happened
4/17/16
in the weariness of spring :: all my fences fell asleep :: the unknown began speaking to its neighbor
4/15/16
the cup of my tulip is infinitely deep :: blood islands floating through murmurs of light
4/14/16
grasses of eternity grow over my roof :: a message drifts through the sky
4/13/16
morning flew away with wings that never crossed a dream :: morning left standing in rain
4/11/16
...and the hands of white orchids have no other purpose :: than to lose themselves in the heart
my name is the hammering which never ceases :: a secret with wings that knows no rest
what no one was interested in (
a death in which
)
gave him a way of being (
the music keeps playing
)
4/7/16
don't yellow sands and lost bones know the world ends without grief
4/6/16
there is a tulip here in the darkness :: no moon to stand beneath
3/29/16
how will you feed the flames of spring
3/28/16
you and i awash in sleep
while winds rise and fall
carrying fire, and the place the fire was
3/27/16
i have a dream i've watched
compose itself slowly—
the one who builds her nest from dawn
3/26/16
all the room in the world
is a grain of stillness—
the life that comes to life when the last word is spoken
3/25/16
reach into the space of your wanting—
a soul there, stretched across dark water
and no consciousness of beginning over
3/24/16
a seed in the soil doesn't know it has eyes
but you, suspended in air, use
your eyes to deny the invisible
3/23/16
are the clouds towering over you
those gliding across the surface
of the waters beneath your breath
3/22/16
deep is the right place to be
in the dark, sweet kernel
where your suns are gathering their warmth
3/21/16
this is the hour my heart fell from the sky—
the moon less than full, but reaching, and
the eyes of the sleepers like seeds
3/18/16
all day,
winds foaming over the roof of my house
how my heart is filled
with tiredness
of a runner who does not have to run
3/17/16
a thread of green
begins the plowing
and your heart is beating away
3/16/16
everything is wind
if you listen closely
you can become the wind again
in the time it takes
for music to enter the chimes
buds of the sky swell open
3/15/16
what nothing can lift
gradually lifts its wings
why there is radiance within your eyes
3/14/16
why did i wake up where i had never been?
answered the wisest hunter of meaning
3/13/16
in you there is proof :: life has the power :: to be where it had not been
3/12/16
what one unearths :: is the dream in the blood :: a black stone in the hollow where we play
3/11/16
is it the moon in an ecstasy of mist :: or my life swimming beside me
3/10/16
what i was :: only moments before :: the rain lost its way to the sky
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