One broken little thought twisting like a thread that joins in sheets in space unoccupied Lights flickering and caught wash the feeling of an interrupted standing space and time and now just clocks and ledger lines just balances and anchors hold but i could disappear I could be a cloud, a mist, an atmosphere and gone One broken little thought just another whim detached, a feather on a string aloft How I became the eye both at once an empty space and a holding of collected thought So quick how darkness circles round to mend a broken shadow Still I could be the fog I could be a blur, a breath, a whisper small and quiet

The hands abandon me; shake down the apple tree. The hands turn stories into legends and heroes. The fingers claw away, click through another day. Fall down the hourglass well into quicksand. But time shoots the arrow through the apple on the boy’s head, and time steals equations from falling apples, woken from its sleep. The shadow’s cutting trace across stone and metal face, a marble monument to a day gone. At night, the archer’s bow draws back a tired arrow. A shining pendulum twists above us. But time shoots the arrow through the apple on the boy’s head, and time steals equations from falling apples, woken from its sleep. Time scatters seeds ‘round, planting nations where the forest grows.

Once grew a black flower in your lawn which rose without the sun And thrived despite the absence of the rain There bloomed the petals dark and frail, a twisted stem of thorns A blight upon your manicure of green From basement studies and candle glow, the blot was on your mind The sermon writ, the pictures straight and neat Holding about you the marble weight to host a fleeting ghost Against the hawklike pierce of those who passed Still between conscience and shame you twisted, writhing all the while But gathered now the mortar and the stone Sparing both spade and the knife of guilt you built a tower fair An edifice to veil your sore from view Sparing both the spade and knife your hold resumed Still the flower behind the wall, so hidden blooms Once to awake to stranger near, the millstone and sword in the blossom Now the cathedral bright and dear, to mend is to mask the uncovered

I dreamt I lived in a house made of books in the library A floor of prose, four walls made of fiction and poetry Biographs above my head, history to make my bed Lay down little sleepyhead In a bed that's made out of books in the library I took a walk in the garden blooming with paperbacks Thru the rows of hedges made out of almanacs By the spoon river I stroll On the road back to my home Past the looking glass I go To a house that's made out of books in the library

Lo, how does the river change? For unending and forgotten ways. Two trees by the bank have grown twisted and forever joined as one. Through the hollow of the trees, through the shadow of the canopy, Thick green moss of unmoved stone hidden where the sun has never known. There the wind has lived in silence, near the whisp’ring of the leaves. Oh, too peaceful night, too quiet forest, that memory is not forgotten. The silent halls were a river between us, too peaceful night. Gone with sorrow, gone with joy. Time has worn away the hardest stone. Flinching roots lie hand in hand, how the sullen river parts its land. But still the moments stretch forever. Still, the moments stretch forever! Oh, too peaceful night, too quiet forest, that memory is not forgotten. The silent halls were a river between us, too peaceful night.

How the wicked wind comes charging to the fight The bellows of the wall thru windows shuttered tight A breathless house and sleepless night From the farther pond to oaks beyond the mill The leaves have stripped away, the branches never still A thunderhead looms o’er the hill Silver blaze of light illuminates the black The rolling of the clouds, the thunder’s chilling snap The weathervane is turning back Shelter for the garden from the apple tree A shelter for the stray cat underneath the eave But fear finds no shelter in me

Into the shadows suburban psalm Feet on the pavement, and well-kept lawn Up to the top of the evergreen Was it a phantom, a mystery? Once for survival, a burning fire Warm on the beach on a blanket lying Now for a grill in your every yard Under the curfew and shining stars Into the canyon a spirit sound Carved into rocks into timepiece wound Covers the plains and the meadowhaze Polishing floors at gymnasiums There was a prom night and camera roll Smiling for pictures, corsage and bow Up to the top of the evergreen We saw the phantom, a mystery We drew the past, to see the future is endless and dull a dream Here was the table and radio Here was the kettle and evening show Here was a haircut and uniform Here was a brother sent off to war Once for survival, a desk pen set Smiling for pictures for albums kept We saw the phantom, the mystery We saw the future, and endless dream We drew the past, to see the future is endless and dull a dream Fortune spoke in words we never knew That was the truth of our hopefulness Here, bright mornings greeted us with joy But that was when we believed in her Cross winds lacing tie our hands Was it a dream? Wasn’t it strange? Didn’t it seem true then? Sundial in the garden never seen Were you awake in the morning? Restless leaves were twisting in the haze Base of the mirror, forgetfulness Shimmer, clear lake, see our face Was it a dream? Wasn’t it cold? Didn’t it seem real then? Was it a dream? Wasn’t it strange? Didn’t it seem true then?

Where had I gone? Out for a stroll to clear my head, cloudy and dull Held in my hand one silver leaf Sidewalk for miles, split-level dream Dark grew the night, silent and still Under the trees on Lantern Hill Maybe the brisk air of the eve Could wake me up out of my dream I was in love when I was young Now I am old, living alone Living alone: One piece of toast, One frozen entree with my shows I’ll read the news, wake up at dawn I’ll rake the leaves, I’ll mow the lawn When I get lost deep in my thoughts I will go out and take a walk

You leaned against the window in the sunroom Reading a novel borrowed from your friend Buried your nose in pages stained with coffee Halfway between beginning and the end Every time the pages turn The smell of cigarettes left burning Wafting by, you long dismissed the scent But as you close in on the final chapter Heart racing ever faster Could you skip ahead and read the end? Aunt ruth was on the steps of your apartment Ringing the buzzer to come up and chat She never cares for anything but gossip Gossip about your mother and her cat Gerald voted independent Missus Janney lost the rent and Silas fell down from the windowsill But as your eyes were slowly glazing over Head still nodding on your shoulders Should you have pretended you were ill? Aunt ruth talked till she had nothing to tell You walked her out to her car and bid her farewell Your Ears still ringing from everything she said Grabbed your book and you tucked into your bed Now you turn the final page Close the cover and turn out the lights

I walked to your house just to see if you were home I cut thru the alleys and yards I walked in the dark and in the stars The faintest mem'ry of where our feet stood before The parking lot I sat on the chair squished next to your stereo Looking through music and books Talking about hearts in space A faded picture that we had smiled for at last I think it was Time was a messenger in the waves were the breath of the ocean light fills the space all round the park sharing leaves falling silent Time was the heartless shadow Time was the twisted ladder Time was the dust-filled cavern Time was the broken lantern Time was a sideways promise Time was the drums in autumn Time was the steps to your room Time was the steps back to home Time has never been a friend To the ones I love And the sun, and the moon, and the earth and the sky Conspire against us I walked to your house just to see if you were home I cut thru the alleys and yards I walked in the dark and in the stars The faintest mem'ry of where our feet stood before The parking lot