Dirty Flows

—for David Buuck 

What buries us

And what we buried

Hearing at the limits

Of what we will have

Heard

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

Made

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.