There’s no bottom to its murky depth
No end its ribbony aroma
I swear it gives me living breath
And revives me from my coma
Alas! There’s not enough of it
In my one and lonely cup
I search in vain for the final bit
But nothing’s left to conjure up
And now I read there’s fear of drought
To wither up the smallest sprout
No plants, no beans, just wretched doubt
My stash of coffee’s running out
Who are you? I say.
I am no one, she replies,
and everyone.
I ask, What does death mean?
It means a life
and nothing more.
I ask what she misses most
about being alive.
Nothing, she says,
except everything.
I ask if all the dead
become ghosts.
No, she says, many dissolve
like tears in the ocean.
I ask if the dead
count the time.
Time, she says, is the
Landlord, you are
a squatter.
I ask if dead
souls live forever.
I will ask the fire,
she says, if the ashes
remember it.
I was a captain of the sky
clouds around my head
like a laurel wreath
eyes fixed on the cresting moon
elbows dancing, and then
in the spark of an instant
lost, all lost,
just a vague memory
until time scrubs the words
from this stone
Trees, drunk with snow melt,
push buds through winter skins,
impatient crocuses bustle from the soil.
Everywhere something stirs,
its long sleep nearly done.
The wind blows without a bite,
birds are on the wing.
Long ago, it was gulls that called.
Now it’s wild geese.
Suddenly, I’m old,
every day a gift;
it was always so
had I but known it.
Shall we meet on some vacation,
Soaked in summer perspiration
Or put it off till August
When the rains no longer dog us
Or shall I look for you in autumn
Seeking out your soggy bottom
Wrapped in leaves of red and gold
While your ass is growing cold
But not as cold as winter’s blast
Be you ever so steadfast
Will you be on some new caper
Despite the freezing vapor
Or, alas! not until spring
Shall I find you on the wing
Pushed along on some tornado
Nearly halfway to Laredo
Whatever is the season
You choose to fry or freeze in
I hope it’s not too long, my lover
Or soon we’ll have to start all over
exiles child 