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.