No Direction Home

a few lines after watching Martin Scorsese's film

I used to believe in the sky, then it bled steel
over green mountains and burned down all rivers
to dust. I used to believe in the mouths of children
until I grew sick of my name on their tongues,
so I took pliers to the one voice, plastered their faces
on milk cartons & websites, buses & billboards
so I could sleep. And I slept.

I once believed in oceans, in moon in the water,
and praises lost in the wind’s throat, before the world
made good its promise, before the desert coughed up
any might have, should have, wish I had.

Once, I believed in silence, but I don’t believe
that any more. The fire’s too strong,
the tundra too deep, the masters of war
too busy with their peace to make sense.
Your eyes follow these words, so you think
you know what I’m thinking, but that’s the great lie.
I once hoped the salt of night would give me direction
but I’ve learned to stay put, and I do it well.

an edited version / as of 16 February 06

No Direction Home


I used to believe in the sky, then it bled steel
over green mountains and burned down all rivers
to dust. I used to believe in the mouths of children
until I grew sick of my name on their tongues,
so I took pliers to the one voice, plastered their faces
on milk cartons & websites, buses & billboards
so I could sleep. And I slept.

I once believed in oceans, in moon in the water,
and praises lost in the wind’s throat, before the world
made good its promise, before the desert coughed up
any might have, should have, wish I had.

Once, I believed in silence, but I don’t believe
that any more. The fire’s too strong, the tundra
too deep, the masters of war too busy. Your eyes follow
these words, so you think you know what I’m saying.
I once hoped the salt of night would give me direction
but I’ve learned to stay put, and I do it well.



3rd version, July 06

I used to believe in the sky, then it bled steel
over green mountains and burned all rivers to dust.
I used to believe in the mouths of children until
I grew sick of my name on their tongues, so I took pliers
to the one voice, plastered their faces on milk cartons
& websites, buses & billboards so I could sleep.
And I slept.

                        I trusted oceans, moon in the water,
and praises lost in the wind’s throat, before the world
made good its promise, before the desert coughed up
any might have, should have, wish I had.

                                                                                Once,
I believed in silence, but I don’t believe
that any more. The fire’s too strong, the tundra
too deep, the masters of war too busy. Your eyes follow
these words, so you think you know what I’m saying.
I once hoped the salt of night would give me direction
but I’ve learned to stay put, and I do it well.

accepted at MiPOesias, 7/28