concrete sun sinks into ruin
now my roof leaks the sorrow of light
now we must believe in the sleeping mind

just before dawn the sky is slick with ice
one could fall and die
where wild geese are dreaming

of more than can be borne
there are stains—
how else could we come to be

what belongs in the earth
has been give cold wings
not unlike birth without a sound

so i get here slowly
on footsteps half-finished
a maple leaf torn free in the blast

small light in heart
flickers to the stars
remembering for the first time it is lost

a neighbor's sweet gum tree was hollow
and those inside said they never heard more
than the barking of the moon

mother's face multiplied
in numberless drops of rain
till she knows what it is i see

a hard and difficult rain drives us outdoors
as small animals in cages
addressed to fire

four crows named Jesus fly
into a neighbor's naked maple tree—
in white skin death wraps me

i look back at my empty shoes
is how flesh
must leave the sea

brought us all to quiet without warning    no hint of eternity or dust

there is sorrow in the way we breathe :: so many suns half-dead in our hands

where my dreams cross the border    the night sky begins again

no moon hurries the dark cloud home    yet ten thousand morrows slide past

outside of sorrow and silence    not all who shine are among the alive

do we know we really never move away—but what if i close the silence

become that that cannot be returned to    lift up what's left of what the dream spoke

you've had the dream of how heaven is    now can you keep it gone forever

the way and the where of the beginning of all    you were given in last night's dream

the eye above Yellow Springs sees in his own way    that being here has nothing inside

future is memory    hunger is flesh—every day since it has rained

the final word knows    but can't tell what's coming    came from dying far away

small as the first house of soul    if small might save the world

going from death to flesh is to be numberless    thus i have come to life utterly alone

the dreamer opens and shuts like an eye    where animals are burning to sleep

because distance is sad and always of love    there is the forest we cannot lay hold of

the smallest island will come home    make nowhere far away

would it be your first howl roaming the loose wind—what makes you listen