Youtwo

Youtwo are sobusy.
I feel the brightdawn
of a newsomething
only youboth bring.
Gehry’s Luma is lunatic,
but your construction is sane.
The bricks and mortar
of bigtrips and biggerlove.

Craziness from fingertips to neurons,
sketching everything in jangly reflexarcs.
Your tale is the tape unmeasured, and unwinding.
You bear witness to inspiration.
Indelible trustmonument of youngidyll,
never to fall, never to fail.
It and youtwo are there, and here.
Youtwo are everywhere.

The black pinecones and the
newlycrowned dirt road
pound my feet with sand and pebbles,
and in between the bickering squirrels
and faded autumn I find a purple thistle.
I will press it in parchment
and smell it in absentia.
I leave the acorns where they have
fallen or blown, dreaming of
fertile sandy beds of loam,
lofty heights, sovereign strength,
and generationyears in every one.
They are selfcontained and insistent
and promised many men
to shelter and to shade,
if the earth persists,
and the dappled seasons do not fade,
and the rain and sun are right,
and the rodents are not too hungry.

The solemn offerings of lifetolife
bounce upon myroof and in mysoul.
I can hear the strife of birth,
rolling noisy, large, and demanding.
It doesn’t need me.
It has never needed me.
It will beat forward intime with
its everrhythms never glancing myway.
It is bouncing everywhere myeyes look.
But I am not discounted.
It breathes and dances also in the words
that only I can write,
in a way that only I can think,
and I think the space weshare
and the truth we have inbrief
is rich enough to spawn more than mushrooms
and thoughtworlds larger than ourgrief.