April 40th

The fear that language is exhausted
is a funny place to suddenly draw the line.

These are some sentences I made up.
Local children do cool Tae Kwon Do on the infield
while I can no longer judge the quality of my own thought,
nor balance the variables necessary to trust myself.
We exhausted it for attention, sometimes being pure,
sometimes pure curiosity did reign.
A girl kicks her naked foot through
wooden boards on the jumbotron.

I remember because I felt shame.
High above the plaid of the twice mowed field
things and their names slipped two degrees out of alignment.

The train goes over the big river.
It’s body of tons of steel goes over the big river
five-hundred percent.
Still I have the great unity, swirling in an orb
on the silver chain of myself.
I wear it on Sunday.
I wear it to my job
watching the ferry choke on green water,
sun shining on the backs of children’s heads.