Dualism

I think the ecologists 

are like the Nature Police— 

note my refusal to associate 

with worldly power, 

it’s jurors—recognizing, 

beneath a false modesty, the rights 

of the white tailed deer to move 

south in the field at dusk, 

and also the aphid, and also the mountain

to be informal, not 

subjects of taxonomy or 

other Victorian fetishes. I’m found 

in a period of contraction—walking 

less, sleeping more, employing 

my low register—I saw them 

rebuilding the bridge 

over the river and sensed 

the resistance to accept 

what I suspected to be true— 

the futility of empire— 

some systems are completely 

outside of balance—you 

are a person in a body 

alongside other bodies and 

a foreign note always 

rises in proximity to

the lover—a nearness 

you could never articulate—you 

were thirsty, you drank 

water and so on, but how long  

since you needed something 

like that? Before this excess? 

Abundance is the enemy 

of desire and desire

is the difference between 

you and God— 

what crosses the eternal 

split, this exquisite 

separation. It’s all 

you have—The Big 

Thwarted Impulse, the tiny 

meaning you’ll never 

give up. & if you did 

you’d hold in your hands

the space it made, like the shape 

of a bird, careful not 

to break the invisible

wing that isn’t there.