Road

I move on a road long past regret

the horizon flat against the sky.

My tires fly unencumbered;

I bend to each curve without slowing.

I have paid my tolls:

the last exit miles behind

some sad gravely past I came through

rolling on;

the engine lulls dully in the back of my ear;

the light unnoticed

until the flick of the automatic headlights.

I nod,

my legs thick from inaction,

the creeping heat of the radiator;

My heavy chest,

the trees a dark blur in the window—

the longest blink—

I nod,

a soft remembrance in my throat.

My road lies forth, my exit long gone

I wonder where I wake.

Holy Man

I ran up the river to the lake
I flew down the chimney to fire.
My hair is smoke:
My boots slush with weeds when I remove my feet.

You who have lived all your life with feathers in your eyes,
come sit by my side.
I will talk to you turning left while moving right,
as has become my tale.
I have spent it all, spent it all, liquid in and fluid out
filled my lantern up with nothing.
When I am gone, lay my ashes gently in my wake.