...some kind of observer, in the world,
waving my books like flags –
afraid or fascinated by everything
that might or might not
                                              happen next.

...hiding away my long list of heroes
on unconnected pages in case there’s a purge
waiting
                just behind the horizon.
Then pulling out names like change –
to make up the difference
between my pretense and my trivia.

...I want to be read like translations,
a little original fame – on anyone’s’ lips.
Rushing the years, for fear:
        the table;
        the half-empty drink;
        nothing to put down on paper.


r berk
Denver June 1996