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No one knows what goes on be-
hind the faces, for I live in your
golden shadow blinded by a rush of
bright madness, of burning morning
haze, and it is a wonder that I func-
tion at all.
Yet here in Virginia I wander
down this quiet afternoon with
friends and clearly see the dogwood
exploding in a galazy of gray turn-
ing green. At my feet tiny flowers,
fern and moss are seen in perfect d
tail.
Far from the midwest we walk at
the edge of spring, talking lightly of
things, voices in the trees, and no
one knows that i am being consumed
by the thought of you.
but now
in another space
another place and time
i read the above curiously
like an old newspaper account
of the Chicago fire
having no idea
of what it's really all about
like pain
such things
will not be remembered
-- from I Know It Isn't Funny but…
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