The Stellar Stream

​The stellar stream will always be
The stellar stream. The cuscus will scurry 
Through the Malaku Islands. But the gray partridge,
Though it flees through the winter wheat, with a flurry

Screams kieer-ik, in a single clutch it lays
Twenty eggs. Thoughts lie heavy 
On the heart. From the center of the city
Avenues spill out, top-heavy

Trucks reach the highway. And there are wrinkled faces,
Once they smiled, once those eyes
Took in the whole world, then they squinted,
The heart shrinks, it ossifies,

Everything is as it is and not
As it could be. Then there stands 
A little door. Some people strain
To reach the knob, they raise their hands,

Beyond it waits their Rio Grande,
But for the mountain striders, those
Who own orange orchards in the valley,
Here crushed melons discompose.

Even a small person can gain 
A great friend who expands the lines
Of his office space, light, airy,
What happy, what inspiring designs,

I wouldn’t meet him, though, if he sits
And glowers, wait until he turns on 
His light, you know, you can learn a lot
When you call out to God in Oregon.