I can't explain
one day the miles are memories exploding
that I've set myself against
this is the way and the truth
and this is the beginning and the end
this is the opening up and the forgetting
these trails of smoke
and knuckle gashes
are the feel of the land
and my mortal nature within it
my hands are tired
my body is tired
my beliefs are many
as are my roaming gods
my gods
and this is the beginning
the rain begins to fall softly
like a guitar
strummed by a hand
under the farmer's market canopy
the sound pushes the air into circles
you've become a confused voice in the spaces
the lines
white yellow
temple through the trees
to the edge of the lake
where the dead fish floats towards the roots
clouds
buildings