Walking the Slow Path (dream tide)

Walking the Slow Path (dream tide)

we who take the slow path
where each step is weathered
and each breath is the weighed
we that must experience
each mile
we have no wings
waxwork mannequins
animate
the rose in the jar dies and dries
and cannot with fire
be renewed

pollinate our thoughts
ripen our brains in the sun
resolving soon to cut our strings and wires


there is laid out light like silk
there is sea cliff and sea tide
sea time like a ticking clock
its springs unwinding
sea house perched at the end of land
wherein your memories reside
incognizant and silent
Turn a little key in the little bird's back
see it flutter jeweled wings
and warble a clockwork song
play a record on the phonograph and dance
listen to your feet shuffle
(empty, lonely)
on floorboards
while you wait for the rushing wave at your door

we are small things, small things
spinning in the breeze
dandelion down
And down, and on
with a passing sigh
counting thoughts and birds
and blades of grass
found future in the bottom of a murky cup
chance hung on a spinning coin
spilled on the dirt with a bag of grain