A day in the woods
can set me straight,
or leave behind an
unbalanced memory
of what I was before
entering the world of
green and leaf rot.
 
A walk in the high
desert inevitably
leads to the confusion
of dreams and desires,
the way the day’s heat
and the cool of night
compete for allegiance.
 
Coming home from
the beach is often
accompanied by a
feeling that something
profound has been
trailing me all day,
but the the press
of bodies hides it
from sight.
 
In the morning, at
sunrise, as I prepare
to conjure the day
I sometimes think of
a glass of water
-temporary, mysterious,
delicious.
 
 
 
*Falling From Us, Vanishings by Alan Williamson