The Place Where Everything Is

Take me to the place where everything is–

The droll of my youth

         follies somewhere.

My father and my dogs,

And other dead relationships,

         field in a meadow union all my former joys.

Tiffany leaves decorate ancestral trees,

         Upon which trunks the human story carved.

Where upon the bark is mine?


The space of time– a distance of eons,

         ribbons and twines

         all real and corporeal.

The package unwraps

         from around the unknown gift.

The recipient is not present–

         but clocks within his own time,

         leaving upon a tree

A Summer of green degrees;

         till yellow and

Brown to fall


         the end

         of it all.



Spring 1985


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