People move in throngs
\non the terraces of this rich house,
\nperched above a calcareous cliff.
\nA stream moves a hundred feet below,
\na vein from the torn muscle of the land.
\nAcross the ravine
\nthreads of time show in the rocks,
\nsediments stacked like cards,
\nand we ephemeral creatures
\nadmire the scene,
\noblivious to the shortness of life.
\nSchoolmates nursing old affairs,
\nunfinished rivalries.<\/p>\n
I drink beer,
\na senior disaster.
\nThe women\u2019s voices are pitched high,
\nthe men have scars around their eyes,
\nthe great dream is coming to an end.
\nThe fall of too many stars.
\nThe house will eventually
\nbe a ruin itself.
\nThe stream will cut deeper
\nin the divide.
\nThe laughter of an evening
\nwill disappear in the wind.<\/p>\n
Years will pass,
\nand the children,
\nif they\u2019re here,
\nwill hold their reunions,
\ngossip and news unrecorded.
\nWill our dreams come back?
\nI listen to the talk,
\nthere are doors closing,
\nnight ascends with a great moon.
\nSummer comes through my clothes
\nwarm and comfortable.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
People move in throngs on the terraces of this rich house, perched above a calcareous cliff. A stream moves a hundred feet below, a vein…<\/p>\n