The Road North

In which the poet travels 1000 miles to lay the dead to rest.


____________________________



The Road North

reasons why.


I.


This place is ripe with cloud thought.
These are the skeleton ways
with all of the branches stripped of leaves.
We are low to a road
neither cared for nor wanted;
there are many places to rest
but we are passing visitors
gone unacknowledged.


These grassland mountains
tremor with sighs.
His voice is gone,
but still we have duties
and all that remains
is restless.

It is a journey of never farewell--
and never let go, no, not now
and not as the night rests, and by daylight
we carve our weary paths, asleep.
These hills hold naught
of love, only its memory, only the dust
we carry on our backs, a thousand miles.

We pause in Utica,
enough to fill up gas.
We must keep time.




II.

cold meters
don't hold me

nor the dead
flashing wet upon streetlights
counting rivers on the windshield
he's here
behind me, somewhere
visiting the dust of his remains

these dark visitors are frequent
for i am well known to the unkept hours
and my dreams are half-barren
and half-ocean deep

i neither know
if he is awake
or i asleep



III.


I slept into daylight
and arose with the cloud countries,
traveled barren hills, higher
climbing peaks to shining towers--
These are mountains.
They are built
of many ways.

I am not bound by frost
though it does become me.
The crisp forests
are an unknown daybreak – I see light
crest the slopes, climb the branches
and make pure what was sleeping;
here it is, yes, and heaven.



IV.


A sudden drop to valleys
plains of nothing, swept
echoing breath
i am i am I Am
we follow down
flighty paths, flicker


*


reasons must be given

but how does one close a life

as though love can close


*

we fear the borderlands
and the restless sunset.
though we are not here
nor there; nor is any place the same
since our faces have changed.

we pass towns
of downcast eyes,
unsympathetic

their hells
are lesser hells
and yet greater,
by their own design



V.

We arrive
at the hotel,
a cannon in my chest.
I breathe this place asleep –
here is a land of never again
and final farewell, and don't tell
my secret; that love takes
many shapes
but only one
stays

The bed is hard
and I see him standing in a mirror –
did he walk behind me,
check our luggage?
he trails us
tries to speak

I listen,

but the walls

are too loud.

*

Tell me
how is it that everything I touch
is flat?

My perception has flown
I am chewed
and mostly a lie.



VII.

Reasons

more reasons why

why do we travel miles
to put dust on a shelf
everything in orderly fashion
does it make him real?
memory is not enough
nor time, nor facets of thought.

but I know he lived
because I live.


VIII.


It is the day before the day
and I dreamt of easter
but the evidence of death
is here, encased in wood, on the table
of his brother's living house
where once he breathed
and now has fallen between cracks
to dirty the carpet.




IX.


Old friends, you are brighter than morning

your memories
are stories warmed
by the glow of his eyes
and you are worthy
of countless hills

I will make this road again

for you





VIII.

time, hold fast
but don't hold me,

not to the weight of thoughts
or borrowed sleep.

his memory
i would keep alive,
but even ice cold, it will not
freeze, but wavering, moves.
we are not bound by frost,
but walk cold meters
past years of love, lost and unmeasured,
with the air an unbearable whisper

reasons? reasons don't matter

not to him




Intercession

new


We are gathered here today
to witness the marriage
of my mother and father.
They are separated by glass panes.

I would know them now;
though I have traveled long
to stand at this doorstep
they do not greet me.
But what is a day--
Perhaps they travel farther than I
and with greater burdens,
and perhaps time is heavy
in their foreign country.

They are far too late
and I am turned away, knowing
we are done wandering.
And my final secret:
love is not mine,
nor is it my right
to keep it.




Returned

renewed.


I.

no footsteps.


We travel without sleep
in the sparseness before dawn;
there is nothing else


This is a journey of
where do we go, and no, not far
from our hearts, though we travel
by pieces of midnight, down mountain slopes
and up rivers of snow; we are low to the road
and know well of its burdens, though
we shall never again
return home



II.


darkness moved upon the face of the deep
and we beckoned light to follow
for we wished to see daylight once more.
dawn breaks and my eyes are known, for I see
the last tree, the last sky, the last blade of grass


awakened, i can see
your living body, unmeasured


in light there is shadow, and to run
it shall chase me, to leave
it shall follow, and to speak
it shall echo
my silence




III.


I bargained for peace with good actions,
thought, if I am good enough, then maybe --
but your bounty is priceless, and my harvest
unmeasured: the will to laugh, the hands to work,
and legs unburdened by fear

We are empty
and new,
and this road
does not carry us past desert hills
nor over mountains, but through the darkest
ravines of a stirring deep; I know
only the clear air thoughts
and the minutes
flashing wet upon streetlights
he is lost
no, he is found
he is lost


it is the blank space
of where I stand
five feet of absent light
and your voice, still sweet in my head
i love you, and after death
i love you still
and love you more