Northward, in Kind

I took you for granted,
my city full of mountains I couldn't understand,
and streets, and water and lives.

Beauty takes time to settle in
too eager when it's young, too
self conscious.

I moved miles and years to find home,
a cold basement in the ghetto,
a loveless traveling
from rural to urban to southern
to wherever we go next.

A dream. A cycle. A barrier between
me and you, Seattle.
A nightmare, waiting.
A love I cannot have, and yet
there is no love without leaving,
and regret.

Alone, Southward

Two months go by-
passing fast,
life.
Lunch breaks in burning heat
rubber on the concrete
a/c running,
music playing,
a loss for words.

Note

Did I not notice

the grainy ghost-blue
through the slanted louver,
its handover, white to auburn,
and the brief blindsiding
by golden translucence
and its redeeming other-worldliness
as viewed from: the front door,
the river-rock driveway,
the rutted dirt-road,
the winding skyway,
the farm-to-market road,
and the descent into/ascent from
the upper Barton Creek watershed?

If I did not notice,
please perform
resuscitation.

Damn the Office Window

Another one, given
to a succession of interruptions
and the usual absences.
Lesser devotions,
barely materialized
and strung together
with good intention.

Subtitles. Submenus.
Subtitles of subtitles
and submenus of submenus.
Subselves of subselves.
Attentions halved and quartered,
diced and minced.
Parenthetical, variable,
an algebraic snarl.

Outside, the mottled sky.
The sway of Plateau Live Oak.
The Lesser Goldfinch fumbling
over dandelion bloom.
Don't look. It will distract
from distractions and sub-distractions,
from the succession of interruptions.