Tuesday, May 16, 2006

For Jim

The perennial search for pulse,
at the bonepile, in the boneyard
or when Spring fleshed green the fields
ever spread for walking—have we softened,

to leave them to grow untrodden,
tiring entirely of tiredness that we
succumbing to rest may have lost a
glow once occurred in the marrow.

No. There is no loss that does not get,
nor have we ceased our looking, or lost
at all. Our company with one another
less than our mythology of friendship

of brotherhood carried now as one would
childhood, or, later, youth and young life.
Nonetheless, you are my friend and I will
always need water from the well of that sense,

beyond circumstance, or distance, or living
in the same town without a word for months!
There are many around, Jim, but few within.
Come any Siberia, the bones remain integral.

Your music, or speech, or loves, your learning
and going away, there is situation inside you
for all there’s to do. The “grand expansion” is a
turn of the head, to see friends there, me among

in clouds or mire or the same trite continuation
of life. There is ever a color to find in the wood
that found increases the variegation of the eye.
Again, as ever, forever, do not stop the looking.


Blogger theseus said...

we want more!

8:04 PM  
Blogger theseus said...

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