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LOST THINGS





Everything we leave behind is a testimony;

Dead skin, nail clippings, a piece of a friendship

And the lost things that bring remembrance.



In my poems I praise so many lost things like

The cicadas that lose us for seventeen years.

I feel like weeping over so many lost things.



How I lost you I will never know but I felt like

A Canadian goose that could not keep up with

The flock; they call to me over darkening reeds.



The crickets cry in autumn is lost in winter and

The contrail of a jet is lost in its dispersion over

The sky; it is the sky that absorbs all yesterdays.



Knowing is blessed by so many of us bootleggers

Because the government does not allow us to know

Delight unless the appropriate sanction is given.



Comprehending a nectar requires need; it is the joy

Of the foundling to be found; the joy of the unrequited

To be loved. It is time for all prodigals to come home.