As barren as the sea, roiling endless
and turning, I am here.
The sun like a blessing; hurts,
and I'll start at the end so you mark
it: I die.
Cycles abound, cycles, circles,
and like chess there is an equality to
movement, the same two moves and an exponential growth.
A winking trump, legs
crossed over
an unclosing wound.
The hall and mirrors, a nascent Republic
founded, failed. Bleeding with the ordered chaos
that birthed it.
A bridge, a mirror, a sun-wracked plane;
things are building. I'm at a gap
in a suit on a windy day and this
land is falling.
Falling around my knees.
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they'll name a city after us
and later say it's all our fault.
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Life is creation; creation is life.
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I love this poem.
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Don't tell me what the !poets are doin'...
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