Axiom's Axis
When the Earth tipped twenty-three degrees
I slid toward the rounded edge of the world
then grasped the limb of a rooted tree.
A tree in winter, leafless, and sheathed in ice.
A tree that held, quite willfully, only to itself.
Presence of Mind
At that present moment, when that moment
Was present, the books I read were
the presence in which I lived.But the stories you tell me now, my love,
Seem to come from a moment just ahead,
A moment soon to be, and so soon to have been.
