I missed dawn 
having spent hours 
with you gazing 
studying you like 
some adventurer planning 
his next journey 
looking at mountains 
and valleys and 
rivers that flow 
and follow form
as I trace 
my path I
hear the sounds
of your wilderness 

Awake too early
this quiet night
like wet firewood 
simply smokes never 
warms or ignites 
that is left
to the sun
as it slowly 
seduces the moon 
turning this dark 
into the light 

Having been 
now not 
that once
once many
many times 
now out
to sea
or stars
having once
then been 
never more 
I wonder 
if ever 

I am now 
nose to wall 
with this thing 
no more mirrors 
no windows and 
no doors just 
me staring at 
me naked now 
no fresco no 
panorama no graffiti 
not even lessons 
scribbled in chalk 
just this wall
one blank wall 
not even staring 
or even looking 
just this one 
wall of me 

This tired
is a
different tired
the type 
I think 
that trees 
have felt 
surviving the 
woodman’s ax
when all 
the others 
have fallen 
been made 
into other 
things and 
this tree
standing now 
in clearing 
where once 
was forest
and now 
just a 
forgotten tree