I think I held it

I think I held it once in my hand for a moment

I think I felt its life

I think I found in it some now lost secret

I think I knew it's self

where is it?

it's there in the grass
in the dirt by the side of the road
there on the shoulder
in the space behind the car

it's here in the gravel

here in the path toward the cliff

here in these seapushed sticks left

in gentle arches on the beach

yes it is

I want it to be what it is not
but it is
only wanting destroys it
only want will ruin
yet it is

I want to destroy it

my want to destroy it

every street has a name.

there is no place
high on a desert plain.
everything is known.
every street has a name.

going to a play, even one performed by amatuers

of course there's still a barrier with
them up there and me down here
but their voice and bodies vibrate words
that are not mine not theirs\
but ours