cold sunlight down tracy street
on a sunday morning
and i am almost able to believe that
the past can be left behind

i am tired of these abstractions
like [i]america[/i] and [i]god[/i]

i have moved awkwardly into the
21st century and brought with me only the bleeding horse
and it walks
slowly from room to room
without ever casting a shadow

and there is a child somewhere
who will be the next one
to die horribly and there are linda’s sisters moving
through this lush green landscape
ten years after the cancer
devoured her

[i]nothing is more important
than motion[/i]

[i]nothing is more important
than love[/i]

these are the words i write with my
wife and son
two hundred miles away
and i know them to be true but
speaking them out loud is a
different thing altogether

i have learned that silence is
not always failure

is sometimes just weight

it can be carried
but only for a short while

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