Before Leaving For The Greeley’s
soon I will know who I am
soon I will crunch through snow
measure myself in the distance behind me sinking
boot and breath into the spine of who
soon I will discover was my former self
lost like the river frozen beneath
yet becoming
becoming roads
that lead to languages I have never dreamed
roads that are themselves bridges that betray
neither what they conceal or where they lead
bridges that trestle two inconceivable sources
just as it carries me off
so do I
carry it along
the two parallel boulevards
that I try to lose myself in
try to lose me
so, it is my choice to sleep there
nothing makes a place more real
as though snoring and waking
on the banks of diverging selves might
keep my knuckles from grinding
across the surface of myself
just as the river files the underbelly of ice
and the ice chisels the trail around it
I too intend to hack out the horror
that might one day be
with a low grit
and a bold boot
me
Crooked Blue Line 
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