Another’s Wind To Blow

Walking around a

Mythical town

That doesn’t exist

Looking for what

I would never find

I trod those same streets

That I had been down

In my dreams before

The sky barren

Except for the sound

Of the exodus

Of wings

Hovering over people

All moving away

The backs of their heads

The only thing visible

As they marched off

Into the dark

With faces and eyes



    To pay for all the things

        that they would never do


    In debt to one last promise

        they will never keep


    The terms of their indecision

        written in the blood of repetition


     The movement of the hawk

         —another’s wind to blow


  (Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

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