Deception is necessary. Disguises, too.
When I wrap this cloak around me,
I change into a barefoot, pious fellow

How strange to be sitting in this room,
to be noticing the windows — clearer than air—
how they let in everything, the leaves,

Sitting and writing on the dining room table,
I want to tell you what it is to be alive,
the yellow oilcloth table takes the imprint

Give us this day. Exhale the little thank you words, they’re quick, slip out our pores, clean hair. A shower. Soap and aspirin. Thank you. Whoever “you” might be.

A queer mist stands from the sea today, 
A queer color like the primary blue 
Supposed but never limed in the environs 

You would think while the hours helped,
if the wind was right, then follow
a current along shore till a beach

A gather of apricots fruit pickers left
gleam like reasons for light going higher, higher;
I look half as hard as I can to tease

My letter to you fell into a river 
so deep, so fast…, and the clear-eyed pages 
tumbled onward. I will never 

We grappled that bird quiet between us
carefully holding its wings folded
and by whispers trying to calm the wild

The bow bent remembers home long,
the years of its tree, the whine
of wind all night conditioning