The Grand TourToday we must love as if we still have a future.
I wake and find I’ve already gone,
following myself until further becomes farther still.
Our bodies learned their throb in wartime
because wartime is what we had.
The galaxy is an egg, the sun a heavy yolk.
The sky is warmer than it used to be.
Plato writes the natural function of a wing
is to raise what is heavy and soar with it
to where the race of gods dwell. Smoke rolls
across the galaxy from another state of fire.
The natural function of an egg is to break open.
This late in summer the roses bloom straight to ash.