Monday, November 14, 2016

William Allegrezza




in water

my story is in bones
fortune cracking or
boats slowly turning above rooflines.
           
when i can,
i watch as rain fills
the ditches with memory.

i could settle with eyes, with
hair out under skies,
with the strings pointing
numbers i cannot sing,
            but i am here with
            toes dangling as driftwood, as
            symbol, trying to build grottos
with story.







daylilies          

i trained early
to be a traveler among the
starts and ends, a
wire walker, so now my voice my
surrounds the circuitry,
and the waves come
into space like dawn.

)it is desirable to
            unbecome myself often(

i trained early
not to move,
so sometimes i imagine your
voice bright orange
and immediately forget.







what other words

with no place or rock for stone,
i have wandered in search of leaves of no
brilliance fallen on bare ground.







The Autumns

the autumns never spoke to
me as to others.

and now
i dream the uncurved
back as my own,
and this sense of flippancy
that i claim rides through
what one says to speak
as fear.

in our section is
every section, a line
pointing into the cosmos
expanding, not stopping
as we do with hope.
what we have said we must.







them

the sidewalks

a
marker             moving                        as display

            for the
                        morning air

in
threes
                        textured words

            as piles that

            i forget to name.




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