← v21n2, Fall 2022
Poetry · Volume 21, Number 2

A tireless messenger who runs and runs

—When was the last time I counted

The horses in their stalls, and did I count

Right, did all the numbers sum up how I felt,

One horse less today, one more gone

Tomorrow, until all that’s left is nothing, stable empty?

—Or could I have had word blindness,

This word shifting the sands of that word,

The world whirled, turntabled, spun

Story, and when I have finished twisting

The fiber into thread, where is the needle, where is its eye?

—Word has it, I’ve been weave and I’ve

Been woof, isn’t it the fabric of the river water

That gets washed, all day in tempo rubato,

Right hand freedom, left hand keeping

Time, run down the clock, all the grace notes falling?