Just Fake It

Over Again

Daniel Johnston (the late, great) wrote in a song once that his life was starting over again. Over again. And maybe he meant it, but his life didn’t and ours won’t either.

This space, if I understand the person who created it correctly (and as it was I…

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Told 

The air lay softly on the green fur

of the almond, it was April

and I said, I begin again

but my hands burned in the damp earth

the light ran between my fingers

a black light like no other

this was not home, the linnet

settling on the oleander

the green pod swelling

the leaf slowly untwisting

the slashed egg fallen from the nest

the tongue of grass tasting

I was being told by a pulse slowing

in the eyes

the dove mourning in shadow

a nerve waking in the groin

the distant hills

turning their white heads away

told by the clouds assembling

in the trees, told by the blooming

of a black mouth beneath the rose

the worm sobbing, the dust

settling on my eyelid, told

by salt, by water, told and told. 

—Philip Levine