this morning shower
conforming to my skin

familiar as a housepet
a domesticated waterfall

in which i get to stand
and let my mind unravel

back to its origin
in the flow of things

in holding and being held
by earth and weather

the light of the crescent
moon is as weak
as an old man’s piss

from over the ridge
the interstate highway
roars and thunders

it’s tranquility with jake brakes
the moon passing
behind contrails

for a moment i too
long to go somewhere
in a dark automobile

at the speed of dreaming
as full of purpose
as a swarm of bees

lob the wadded-up tissue
in the direction of the waste basket

and hear it go in
with a soft double knock

i lie back in triumph
but sleep has fled

the oil furnace
rumbles to life

down in the crawl space it shares
with hibernating animals

who needs wings
when you can jump

it’s usually enough
to flummox the spider

stalking across the snow
in her bare legs

as if at a funeral
for the last rose

while the wine of fellowship
propels such epic leaps

appearing right there
in my favorite trousers

and i remember i’m split
into left and right channels

bringing both sides of a shirt
together to save space

paired ends of socks
get turned inside-out

and look my sleeping cap
at the bottom of the stairs

i follow my mother’s tracks
following a porcupine

where it dragged a tree-
filled belly over

the snow striped with shadows
like the sky striped with clouds

the black-and-white
of woodpecker wings

on the horizon the other
end of this very mountain

curled like a blue cat
in the January sun