ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 7
KEEPING A PIECE OF BLUE
in this wind the trees throw
their shadows around
like a dog wagging its tail
beside the everyday or behind it
some extreme exerts itself
wind that tears the shadows from the trees
trees more naked than leaflessness
nakedness the mark of future's place
its place lodged on a vast shore of silence
oh blue home over all homes
I inspect you by the inch for shreds of every day
all solitude of air all wings overreaching us
there won't be any more future
than we can carry
I was trained in youth to carry
these are hands
if they look like wings
it's because of what they carry