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.