WHEN RETURNING HOME, UNDER TREES
I teach my students that we get lost navigating
and our first thought is to turn around.
At the end of the movie, I realize the theater’s empty
and I have been alone that whole time.
I attempt to make something of substance
out of everything. One cannot simply walk outside.
It’s more complicated than that. A process that, with terrible luck, fades.
I was teaching my students that we have to be cautious
of everything we know. I’m trying this new thing called being open.
If a church is abandoned, is there residual warmth or is the whole site now unholy?
If the dead give you looks, should you be concerned they can see you?
If there’s a photograph. If there’s a picture…
If I knew where my mind was, would I be there too?
I have three possibilities when it comes to my first memory. What I know is this:
There’s a door being opened
I’m running in circles through the house
The house is being altered and when I come back to it,
I can see where things had once been.