Thursday, May 22, 2014

Dirty Flows

—for David Buuck 

What buries us
And what we buried

Hearing at the limits
Of what we will have

Any body
Hold me like a
Sound over the water

Of history dirt doesn’t
Bother to write

When what we can’t
See kills me
I can’t see the
Bottom of the words

What will have been
The price we paid

Another amusement
Enacting afterglow

Cross-breeze and
Dirty flows


The battlefield air
The battlefield water
Someone said Canada
Is the Saudi Arabia
Of water

If what we do
Is a project
I am the rejectamenta
Of what sounds
The marching armies

I am that army
Of effects before
Their causes made
A sound

I am form
And I am wave


What will have been
Green the soldiers
Shepherd common being

In a future we
Can’t perceive

In a past
We don’t depend
On when

Where doesn’t matter

Repeat the dirt
In your veins

The fire in the voyage.

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