the roads
                                       a tragedy

They roll in at dawn, past steel and construction sites.
The sky is backlit blue, a wilted bud, and only at this time
Do I understand why the roads were ever built at all.
So the avenues uncoil, and the mountains rise up against the stolid earth.
Bridges shake dry the sea, songbirds edge forth to
revive the living and dead.
Day breaks like the shattering of good fortune.

So begin: a crawl from our nostrils,
                  a kick at the mainstay of untrimmed hair.
                  a ringing in the ears, a slow rolling of ocean
So begin: a prickling of the skin in one and one thousand places,
                  a rush of blood to float the drunken brain,
So begin: oh these, oh human hours
No push, no crawl, no steady walk towards life
no clash with gravity on the way down.

The dews fall fast,
as punctual as a death,
and I am left:
still unlearned in the hangovers of morning,
still hiding behind handshakes,
still speaking softly
so as not
to be understood.