Variation on Rexroth

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June 19, 2014 by Wayne.

Dear grey/girl/gone,

You alone, passing and repassing
Through bands of blue streets.

We walk through the half-field in half-light
A procession of sweaters and faith, dim
crisscross of flash lights flowing
across the field,
dads calling out the mud patches
mums pulling kids away from eagerly jumping in

The trip north had been a mess
of words and gritted teeth
officepolitik simmering undersurface
Slow winding roads past trees and trees
Creeping up the aching hill

Tomorrow now, will be two weeks since
I will sleep well, I will forget
On a tree now, blood run down
the monolithic episteme still
twisting in discursive past
moreover, with no semantic baggage
we just were
and we were not
oh jittery invalid, full of thoughts
thoughts hopes dreams
not the holy truth but the imprint
the trinity of mimicry

The glow of the coals
Cracked pepper, salt
Brush and oil
The hissing and spitting
Laughter over warming beer
That was then.

Near the peak, we rolled the windows down,
Spy: smoke and plastic bags, sweat
Taste: storm, metallic
Finished in silence

We step single file across the planks
the voices joined by collectively louder ones
from across
we can hear, almost, the polite smiling and seasonal cheer
the bells are ringing out now,
clattering in the cold,

You, still, never leaving
Not the old one, but the newer son
Benevolent in the face of my hate, magnanimous, saying
turn away if you must,
i will still be here,
never leaving

But you know that’s not true
We can’t go back –
although i suppose
we were not.


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