Stores Of Sand
Looking back in time
like looking through the small
end of a telescope
everything starts or begins
in a dot, there you are
there we all are, there’s all our stuff.
Waiting now for you
waiting for us all to join up again
it’s like viewing what’s left of life
through the clapboard slats of a fence
or wishing for the hellish sun
to end its agony and blink out.
You and I speaking between
the floating at the top of the ocean fish
and a scavenging moon
we are both coagulated there
everything appearing as high noon.
Every day we’ll won’t we leave our
boot tracks waffle iron prints
the lunar rover with my dear you at the controls
saying everything together all at once
everything going on
all at once.