A Panic That Can Still Come Upon Me

If today and today I am calling aloud If I break into pieces of glitter on asphalt bits of sun, the din if tires whine on wet pavement everything humming If we find we are still in motion and have arrived in Zeno’s thought, like if sunshine hits marble and the sea lights up we might know we were loved, are loved if flames and harvest, the enchanted plain If our wishes are met with dirt and thyme, thistle, oil, heirloom, and basil or the end result is worry, chaos and if “I should know better” If our loves are anointed with missiles Apache fire, Tomahawks did we follow the tablets the pilgrims suggested If we ask that every song touch its origin just once and the years engulfed If problems of identity confound sages, derelict philosophers, administrators who can say I am found if this time you, all of it, this time now If nothing save Saturdays at the metro and if rain falls sidelong in the platz doorways, onto mansard roofs If enumerations of the fall and if falling, cities rocked with gas fires at dawn Can you rescind the ghost’s double nakedness hungry and waning if children, soldiers, children taken down in schools if burning fuel Who can’t say they have seen this and can we sing this if in the auroras’ reflecting the sea, gauze touching the breast Too bad for you, beautiful singer unadorned by laurel child of thunder and scapegoat alike If the crowd in the mind becoming crowded in street and villages, and trains run next to the freeway If exit is merely a sign