poems as hand- and foot-holds on a glass mountain

Those Walking Blues

Walking neighborhood streets in cold morning light
into a wind we seem to be making
leaning into it, full on the face
by the time it reaches our ears
it is barely a whisper

I am Error, it says, the original universal
presenting then slipping away
as I do without your endorsement
showing you unlearning

A snarling dog runs out at us as we pass its yard
teeth bared, snapping at aliens

Suits and ties hang in the back of the closet
along with citizenship
we’re all antis now

By late afternoon a familiar weariness has come on
as though morning were decades away

Expectation grabs things as they are at first;
what it is to be a thing
is to be error then unexpected

leaving firsts behind is their gift to us
a peek behind selves

into what it is to be led and what is not;
when you are no longer a novice
you can no longer be led

yesterday is past by virtue of first-error
had it been second it would be present

2 Responses to “Those Walking Blues”

  1. Craig Brandis (aka Burl Whitman)

    “yesterday is past by virtue of first-error
    had it been second it would be present”
    That’s a great line as well as the idea of ‘first-error’ …love it


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