There is the torch and the only thing



That will prevent us from using it



Is whether or not we can allow



Jellyfish in the otherwise



Crystalline surf. It would be easy



To dismiss this view as beautiful and walk away



Because it is buggy and we forgot



The spray, to cancel the conversation



Because its ease is perilous with conjunctions,



To not touch because the sky would



Separate from the sky and the mothership



Would fall through with a banner



Waving in a language we wouldn’t



Understand though the meaning is



As clear as these intercontinental



Contrails hatching mackerel sky



Saying we are full we are full



Of sound and fury, we are signifying



Nothing. Damned universal law.



Damned categorical imperative



Elbowing its way between my hands



And your face. The sparrows again



Exploding against windows



As a circle of men sitting outside



The cafe while away their intentions



With invisible motor tics they can’t



Even feel unless the right empire of light



Covers every last inch of them



And brings to the surface the names —



Those loves they chose



To stable. And there it is:



The choice — if only the metaphor



Were more complex if I could only



Adverb away my existence



And say what a remarkable Sunday



This is a perfect Sunday



And turn my breath to stone.



I’ve done it before, I spoke



The language of sweating cavern walls



And electric light. But I won’t go there again.



We are all and only our distances



And when we touch that is what we touch.



Our messy shelves. Our sullen privations



And overabundance of lemons.



Our grief, our mountains and fields



And rivers of grief. Our dismissals



And the love we ignore when we don’t run



After the sparrows because the sparrows



Will fly away. My sparrow, fly away if you have to



But know that I am coming.



I am low in the grass. I am burning



With patience. I am every song.



I know all the math in the shore



Says you shouldn’t but my distance



Is yours if you want it. And it is yours



If you don’t. Dandelions and honeysuckle



Surround me, the world’s ineluctable fire



Is looking right at me, and I am making my stand.





