Joshua Keiter

Soon enough
the month will end

it could not end
soon enough

How can there be
a title
with no poem attached?

Yes.

Except for the fact
that nothing ever changes
the world would be
unrecognizable you can tell

by the way the leaves
are appearing now on the branches
and the river streams by
as if there were no such thing

as a straight line
there must be a way to reach
the small island with grass
in the middle of the river

whether by rock or branch
someone must have stepped
before upon the shore unshored
though uninhabited obviously

once it was attached to land
then somehow split apart
and now it waits patiently
for reunion or relief

the way the light reflects
upon and off the water
and passes the little island by
still searching for its home

the leaves the light
the water the island
will never find
its own way back

Holding tightly
to the image

things are symbols
of themselves

and rightly so
when the metaphor

is concretized
such that you cannot

breathe so much
as a whisper

without regarding
it as sin

we all fall short
of the glory of God

simultaneously
we create

that which on earth
is not in heaven

because heaven
turns out to be

not just beyond
the clouds

but rather
in the heart

of the words
which can never

be heard exactly
the same way

or even twice
always and only

broken and blessed
in their brokenness

wholly.

It is not
an exaggeration
to say that

every creed
yet devised
is inadequate

to experience
and still
we cling

to old words
in languages
no one speaks

to make the dark
mirror shine
in the darkness

like it was
already bathed
in blood

or bread
we already
digested.

Walking
down the block
it begins to rain

existence
is unbearable
in its fullness

each step
is another death

each step
is another birth

The chords of early spring sound
resemble chords of early autumn

the trees struggle to burst their branches
while people turn the collars up on their porches

against the cold nothing to do
but wait for the outside to breathe in again

as the screen door swings off its hinges
letting in through the gash the bugs who never left

somehow they found a way to endure
as the milky way continues its imperceptible spin

above our heads

We keep finding
new and better ways
of having nothing to do

All the fire escapes
landed with
a thud

I tried to be disjointed
and ironic
but the converses didn’t fit

The sidewalk goes
sideways
and is all the better for it

They tore the building down
in the open air
and we breathed in the dust

This road is closed for repair
the detour
is also closed

If there was an answer
to existence
then we would find it

Instead there is no existence
no answer
so no finding out

Don’t panic
these are only
fragments

The longest rain of
the season starts small but grows
into big puddles

Soon the rain is not
rain any more it’s only
really big puddles

for what was
in the beginning

what deteriorates
as it progresses

into thick memory
thinning out

as the universe
expands and contracts

in one sweeping motion
indiscernible

to the apparent eye
will the darkness

prevail over evil
when the stone

is rolled away
will the emptiness

uncause itself
leaving the world

just as it is
and nothing more

nothing more