Castles of Smoke

.
This spark lands here,
shining from the distant
sun; your eyes
are depthless but still
I search their ocean ends.

At every turn, I exhale
a tiny castle of smoke
to mark how lost
I'm becoming.
This way I know
there's no way
out.

Orpheus was right
when he said to not look back,
but when have I ever
done what I believe?

Show me any poet's feet
that are clean or dirty.

Behind me,
I watch the arabesque ruins of smoke
going to gone along my rippling trail.
I can't blame the walls
for their decay. It's within them
to die. My lungs
release each turbulence of calm
to mark the air.

What fades fades
into nothing. Lost,
I know I'm
nowhere.



by jerry gordon
4.28.5