Poetry | December 01, 2009

I chased sleep all night. We two went far & wide,

Through Time & times,

Old ghosts. He wore a cloak that made him look derelict,

Like a tramp.

He also had a cane & feigned a limp, but I

Wasn’t fooled.

I asked him where you were. He said he didn’t know.

But he would

Show me if I just followed him a few more years.

We went so far

I couldn’t catch him, though his limp grew worse, but he

led me on.

In Athens, we were greeted like two old kind kings,

& asked to stay.

Everyone claimed to have seen you only yesterday.

“Yesterday’s

A vast desert,” I said. “There are so many town

To keep track of.”

No one would listen. Sleep grew weary of the talk.

So we went on.

By now I only wished for him to let his guard

Down, so I could

Corner him. But he went on, kept out of reach.

My legs grew long

As bamboo stalks & thin as thoughts of money to

A man like me.

High in the hills of China, near that wall, I caught

Him. We went down

In a tide of dust & stones, a rage of ash & smoke.

It looked like war.

I dragged him by his feet across the continents,

& finally

Across the sea, the polar caps, the mountains, hills,

& dreaming rivers,

To this old town made out of songs, this street, this house,

This empty house.