Leaving a place

In the wild we never really leave a place
We always walk into it, noses turned up
The bears are always crawling some place
A night place like  bush in the darkness.
Our white birds are always up in trees.
The sea is swishing tail in the tall leaves
In its wind application, white surf foam.
The sounds are soft, tranquil on the ears.
Midnight place disappears slowly in steps
Gently sloping, hedged by a wall of trees.

Our place is always midnight or morning
Or some place else before or after death
Or in going, looking back at going place.
The market sounds are place we leave.
The crowd is place over their still heads.
From the sea memorial, a crow is place
We leave looking at the shoreline in sea.


Our light is place in the room we classify
And ossify in memory, a memory place
Bare of bones, fleshly existence in place
A bone marrow in a far someone’s place.
Cells   are place in bone, lumps in mind
Mind is place we leave, we look back on
Against the wall of trees, against steps
That slope downward to fragrant trees.


Our poems are place in the table light
Near the soft window of Basel and rose
Bird chicks are place in air-conditioner.
Their mothers are place for grass blades
We classify in the balcony sky of clothes.
Our fathers leave our time on balcony
Our longtime mothers are place in ice.


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