A man
needs a shed
takes the clutter
from his head
lays it down
on musty beds
tight against the edge
stained but only
partial red
a man
needs a shed
it takes away
his heart of lead
a place to dwell until
the world is pure
and nearly
bled
with creosote
and sodden pine
with scattered pins
on earthy weathered twine
all friends within
a secret place
to mine the mind
a space where men
have always fled
and every man
deserves
a shed.
It’s blank
this space
we occupy
scratching the void
we stare
in articling watch
we see
cold folding air
we share
time spilled sun
we thank grace
more than that
we are here
and we are there
and we fail
and we can feel
we almost care
this is blankness
after oneness
after selflessness
after all.
I know the way.
Every inch and mile
each turn and blur
every waypost sigh,
I know the way.
Yes, I do.
And I know you.
And we both know
it’s time to move.
Lay the landscape bare
unbutton roads -
each lane and every track
open to the journeys
never coming back.
I know the way.
Turn left, turn right
straight over keeping on.
We will have miles
beneath our wheels,
like every breath
that ever was -
like every glancing move
like each wilful lover lost
we will travel on.
I know the way
I really do -
don’t stop, don’t stop
until I say.
Destination.