Monthly Archives: October 2018

A walk through the grocery store


A walk through the grocery store

A man, empty-handed, carries a great hole
Into the grocery store. He pushes a cart

Into which he drops vital things: bread,
Oil, wine, coffee. Brownie mix for the kids.

Nothing goes in the hole
Which he sometimes carries inside

His body, sometimes twirls absently
Like a ring too loose to safely wear

That nevertheless will not fall off his finger.
Nothing comes out of the hole though

Sometimes he thinks that’s because
Everything has already gone out of it,

It needed to be that way to be a hole
And so empty it can’t contain even darkness,

Or a single name, or the weight
Of a hand on his back, the sound

Of water being turned off, the wing
Beats of an unseen bird, the as yet

Unknown cost of everything in the cart

Running behind


Running behind

Summer’s running behind feels a bit mean
To a person already running behind,

A forced vertigo of sorts I can’t calibrate
My own behind-ness to: here in the early

Autumn of my life I’m still sweating
A summer boy’s things and the blurring

Faces of those I run by on the street
Of my life. I’m worried about what I’m

Missing by not standing still. By never
Getting up to speed. Time runs ahead,

The orange soles of her sneakers glistening
Over night’s damp suburban grass.

One wet evening, in the light of a white-faced lawn
Jockey, she’ll be waiting, stretching her legs

For a last run with me.