Retrace the Steps

I've always been too much like Levertov
too much
on
the
next
line
too much like the Hebrews
repeating images
using pictures--restating in other words
the already said
too much in love with Levine
and his stark line and his white images
of taste and grime and industry
and dirt and the list goes on to one
too much in sway like Neruda
full of plump pomegranites
and li-young lee--word mistakes
and twists and turns in persimmons

i like persimmons

too much like Dickenson
all dashes and rhythms
too much like w.s.
with nothing to say
next to the white chickens
not enough like eliot
the epic eludes, eludes, eludes
bishop's fish and oily rainbows

so bring the requiem of notes played and words read, spelled
spoken and tasted.

I breathe the steps I've taken
and I will breathe them again
and they will be read.

Thrios Arkadelphia

I'm trapped in the home stretch
caught in the last .2 miles to the finish
If I could just get beyond,
If I could just reach,
out, past, there, in front;
just at the tip of the longest finger
of the daydreaming transient.

Angry, red and bitter;
I gesticulate--
the homeless hitchhiker
terrifying every do-gooder,
stomping and swearing.

I'm so damned helpless,
trapped and helpless
watching the dust devils dance.