Cocoon
After years of binge my hunger
was suddenly gone I became still
for three whole minutes during which
a curt north wind dusted my sills
with a memory of ice everything changed then
I put aside my sickle and walked from the field
though the day was young and found
a shade in which to begin I did not think
about the task beyond that it felt when noticed
like nothing more than breathing
I began with nothing to show
and soon a veil of fibers around my feet
and soon a quilt that felt like knowing
how to dance and dancing well
and so I spun for what else
was there to do I no longer went
out I didn’t know how to be
a friend or father I didn’t know
what a lover was I stopped
pretending the world was to blame
I was inside with no story
to save me from myself
Apologia
Whoever said stone is unfeeling
does not know the measure of all feeling.
Channeling stone can save those that
would float away into realms of grief.
Holding against the storm,
I sit with my wife as she sobs.
I am, with my life,
carving my apology from this stone.
The Return
Here I am again,
staring out the window,
watching nothing
in particular happen
to the trees. I hear
a raven make
from nothing
a sound like a drop
of water—that
sound falling
into the cavern
of my brain.
How does one aim
toward nothing
without tripping
into nihilism?
I banished the drink
in order to live.
I returned
to myself
by making room
for nothing.
