I let my balloons sail
one of my favorite things to do
over counties, the high vacuous air
and I may discern
the thin wispiness of bottom clouds.
You in our watchhouse
no longer using verbs
of being or doing
the cold open skies,
railroad tracks viewed from above.
There’s a kind of sense in
being sent away
we which remain
and continue to grasp a type of want list
your once articles in our hands.
Sometime chant, beseech
the distances of time
a little like coagulated blood
or bird flights
occurring over fifty odd years.