I Far Prefer its Troubled Flicker

One damp twig,

then another,

onto a fire that is more

snap and smoke

than heat.

It is too small, and too sad,

and keeps my hands

just warm enough

to hurt.

Yet, it is also

the only thing that

keeps me

from being swallowed

by this vast, corrosive night.  

And I far prefer its troubled flicker

to the garish summer bonfires

of easier times.

Among This Scatter

Every time

I close my eyes

something

slips,

and they reopen

upon a lesser copy

of the world

they knew,

with duller reds

and more explanations

for magic.

Tell me,

where have you gone

among this scatter?

We could keep

something,

together,

for awhile at least.

And the world

will need

more broken and

restless

fools

to fight this

maddening entropy;

to build
only to lose over,

and over,

and over again,

each time uttering

a solemn plea
of ‘just this once…’

And the World Moves

I’m on break from grad school,

riding with my fiancé from

Denver airport
to Steamboat Springs

to visit an old roommate.

“There are antelope in Colorado?”

I ask.

“Pronghorn” replies the driver.  

Outside the window

a new universe is unfurling,

hinting at my sheltered life.

God, those mountains…

(what do I need to call

the ones back home now?)

How they dominate, pulling

both clouds and something

in the pit of my stomach

to their earthy bulk.

Near Rabbit Ear Pass

we get out to take some photos;
in the cold, misty air,

I feel irreversibly changed.

Which is the road,

and which are the stops,

I begin to wonder.

Gazing at the grey gravity,

at the herds of pronghorn

sifting for tall grass

through diminishing snows,

I answer unexpectedly,

and the world moves under my feet.  

Go to the mountains

Go to the mountains
if you are lonely,
or waiting;
their crude wisdom of heights
is stark
and final.

They will show
that loneliness
is merely
hope
beset by impossible
distance,
and that to linger
in high altitude
is certain death.

Something Alien

Something alien
has settled into this heart
of failures.

It says things like
"You're better now"
and
"Risk it all"

And I don't know
whether to call it a bastard
or thank it
for saving my life.

The Corridor

One day

I came upon another

who dwelt in the doorways

of this corridor.

I watched her peer into rooms

as I do,
front-lit, feeling their slow gravity,

their snare of comfort,

before retreating to the lonely freedom

of in-between.

Perhaps

we could walk awhile

together

until we find what we can’t resist.

This Feeling is Like Waking

This feeling is like
waking
warm in bed
after the crumbling
logic of a dream;
a smile of sudden
knowledge
that there is someone next to me
if I were to just
reach.

It's opening a book to the
middle
inhaling
with pressed nose
great draughts of unread
pages
which might say
anything.