ON LEARNING OF MY FATHER'S ILLNESS
[NOVEMBER 22, 2011]

by Liam Hysjulien

 

 

I don’t believe in anything,
     but nature-via-beauty-con-science—

no cable that welcomes us
            all home.

The crafted shore 
     of crying birds. 
Alone in the belly
     of a single branched tree.

I find these things all with you.

Or the words we rearranged
     and the combinations that split
     along the dirty water in my head.

I like this soulless hum
     of metallic drivers, pistons firing

     into the atomized filaments that wrap
            down into the base of your spine.

I like it all these days. The drive through the loosened

rocks of the Cumberland. The moments in

            our silence, the dipping in and out of range,
                 a mesh of spidered and fallen trees.

The darkening sky, the opening of the universe

dancing in a beautiful comb of white across what

            I am still remembering

                 even now.

 

 

Return to table of contents.