Travel In

Lake Michigan, Lake Erie, a thatch work of fields
A flock of white birds tossed into the sky
I live in corners of the night
Checking in and checking out and then I fly
Days stacked up on days, thunder in the winter
Lightning flashing through the falling snow
I sleep a shallow sleep and in the dream a little boy
Runs toward the checkpoint, a white flag in his hand
Can I thread my coat to yours and can we turn and turn and turn
Can I stitch your sadness to the wind and let it go
Will you build a little cabin on your little piece of land
Will you curve your body against mine and let it rest?
I learn the oneness of alone
I learn to call this motion home
Travel in, travel deep, travel in, travel deep
States stacked up on states, all pressed against the highway
Whole country working hard to look the same
They call it an illness, that miracle spring
When I leapt out of my flesh and became one with everything
Can I thread my coat to yours…