Leap Years

A music

does me walking glee.

Memory does me

whether or not purpose

says I’m savable:

the idle rescue-tinkles

from bells of origin.

I heard that rainbow

in the myths repeat, and felt

ungainly & conceiting

where I kept light despite

broad vague darkness

sharpening the needful

shadows on my eyes,

my yes despairing

despite no there there—

I entered. I enter

everyday & chaos of approximal

minutiae get swept lexical

to plans plans

only dream about.

Sip of universe, why not

have funnels focused

echoes recognized.

Shofar, once

the cornucopic foghorn

of a conch releasing

its pink fist

of oceanic chew—

remember how

I put my anther finger out

at school—tried to read

the lumpy mountain Braille

of globe, and didn’t yet know

my wonder was a counter-

weight upon the earth,

obeisant to the moon.