Poems I

6
Praxis

There are some things we’d rather stretch to infinity
than cleave,
Or trees better climbed, we think,
than heaved
over,

root-dead.

But we’re familiar with those little practices
of mending,
And deceived that the risk we take
in delight of
rending,

is worth it.

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Cruising

The most difficult part is after
you’ve passed him.
The looks have been given, and cast
back. The coming to a stop.
Beginning to fiddle with pretense.

A smoking habit is good here.
Or a street to be crossed.
Any excuse, the moon even
will do. Yes. Stop just there and gaze up,
hands in pockets.

No need to glance back. He will come.
It is instinct, old as the tides.

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Oblivion

Moments divided
between those
known
and those separated
by divisions of her light
into moments

of oblivion.
5