Cicadas sing their late August song
in the sunset and rumor
of autumn leaves. Somewhere
in the distance gunfire
or leftover fireworks
from some holiday long
diverged from meaning
to call out the fireflies
for evening watch.
Tag Archives: poem
Which will make you rethink your religion
At some point, you make the fire walk.
No one said it was going to be easy.
You’ll never have
the right shoes
the best circumstances
the perfect weather.
Your shoes will be falling apart and full of holes
that let in every arctic wind
every downpour and puddle.
Your socks will get uncomfortably wet
which will make you rethink
your religion and every decision
that led up to this point of imagining
what toe rot feels like.
There’s always a job, an operation you need,
physical pain you have to make a friend
because it’s easier than being an enemy.
At some point
you will look at your shoes
because it always comes back to your feet
no matter what anyone tells you.
You can lie to your heart, play games with your head
and paint all manner of epic landscapes
but your feet will find a way
to give you pause. Every single time.
Sometimes you get a warning, but mostly
you look up and the fire walk is there
and you can either go through
or turn around.
The important tests are not the ones
where a teacher warns you ahead of time
and lets you use the book
and you won’t know
if your feet will burn
until you tighten your laces
get some shoe goo and fresh insoles
and just go.
A review of NYC, medium dark, with room
2 days in this city & I cannot find myself
though I suspect that’s the point;
but I am beginning to understand
that might be the appeal
especially when there is no self
to find.
– from field notes, 7.18.26