WEBVTT

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I'll just go back a little
to some of my earlier poems.

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This one is a poem about
beginnings, beginners

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and beginnings.

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Metaphysics at Lake Oswego.

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Dawn like never before.

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Rosy bands across bare trees.

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For the beginner,
doubt and possibility

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both cradled in the pink sky.

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Like the beginner,
empty and ready

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as if an egg under each arm
and without breaking them.

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Ada rows out on the lake,
oar plash and bird call.

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So much in love with the music.

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She just moves, that's
all, great hips.

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From the shore, you're
familiar with her look.

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You must tame her focus
to see your human face.

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Cradled in a boat, her
body confirms destiny.

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Already out this March,
starving the deer, demanding you

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dissemble and bow
down and to whom.

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Ada in a boat, Ada on the shore,
in the waning days of your 20s,

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Ada bathing.

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Your whole life is
overcoming the past,

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which is fixed to repeat
with a kind of innocence.

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Rustling the underbrush,
you'd crawl from the spot.

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Red end toward the
real trees, why

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is she not always undressing
there before a swim?

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Dawn like never before
charges up in you,

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alizarin, perfect and
wanton with something

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to express, not figure out.

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You are here blindly
observing gestures again.

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Only when they ricochet do
the lights riddle your body.

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Destiny, hope, you neither
let go nor withhold.

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