others

when will you come back to me?
                                         in the winter silence
                                         in the machete orchestra
                                         o heartrivermouth

                       zincwater swingboats advance
                       i have one minute to drink the ocean
                                 leopards of rain everywhere

                       rooks swing into the windowframe
                                  exclaiming how flight is
                       marvellous to one-another

                       but my mouth utters cut rags
                                   but my mind sleeps and the songs
                                                 leap from me like birds
                                                                  all at once
                       but i remember the iron manager of bliss
                       and the songs are like water on an anvil
                       but my eye is torn by a long cloud
               and the sound of it could violin a desert
                       but my friend sleeps with the world tied to his hand
               and there is no band can play such ignorance
but the sun whips me with rain
                        and my hair writes libretti of footprints
               and my songs shiver
                        but after centuries a tree grows from my mouth
and you come back with oils from the velvet engines of flowers

because i remembered the code of the rain
because i remembered the swift’s arrival
because i remembered the tide remembers
because i remembered the starlight of voices
falling from the past towards us
to break this voice

to dip my face my whole dry head
           into a cold beck
                      under a sharp force

to dream of oaks and maples
           their rising acres in the distance
                      the light made of leaves
           to escape
                       in a word’s shape

           to disintegrate in the tide of blue space
                       a dandelion clock
                       at a clifftop

                                birdfall
                                seedfall
                                          to glide
                       into the horizon
                       that soft meeting of others

so what’s best to remember? in this poem i’m trying to shift certain kinds of memory out of the way to make way for other kinds, to replace personal experiences with memories that come through instinct and connection. better to have an empty mind than to be subject to memories that have been distorted by convention or by fears and limitations. if we don’t remember certain things, the world, which also remembers, will end. we can try to remember fearlessly, that it’s possible to meet without conflict, or we can remember what we are permitted to remember by society.