Bluesky

with the earthin it.

When the tourists land, the greatseminaries of Rome assign me the allowanceof worry.

And if my life were to close, I would closewith my implacable wrist.

Rome tells me to learn, but sometimesI can hear the fitful whistlingdrip in my eye around us and also withinus.

Love is nothing without lineage. Home is wherechildren are born, and it changes the earth.How do you love, Earth?

Rome means the world is a poem, and between you and me,the world flows in my templeswith the heart of time. It is eternal but thenit stops and the rain drips in.

God fills time with social thingslike rain and the war and the land he captureswhen he needs a new series. War is both sidesof a world.

Earth, you are too largeto be an image: you makeme holdwho isn’t there.

I search for Rome in the water, I search for Godin the clay. But I can read the stars walkingin the language of my movement.