This is our un-dwelling,
our poetic home
—Martin Heidigger

Before your parents named you
you had a name. What was it?
Do you remember?

They changed words there in darkness
squinting, reinventing

From pulsar to bean row
to the wreck of the Peter Iredale
with its rusting bones rising
and dying with the tide
here we are, you and I
with these names

When we were aquiline
far tunneling and strange
we changed our clothes in tide pools

Our names spoke themselves
and sovereign death had to walk
all the way out to the little stone cabin
with the brindled eyes to find us

2 responses to “Home

  1. I like this very much, Burl, Craig.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Craig Brandis (aka Burl Whitman)

    Thanks John. The drug of choice of poets is moving readers as I know you know from your own work. I’m glad you continue to find useful things here.


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