if your road is wine-dark & you drink
& your blood is sunlight & swimming
if the little freedoms that form you
taste like clean winter air
if the whole of time finds itself & disappears
in the geometry of your breath
if you are prone to becoming
those things you always doubted
if genuflection is an artform
& you place all questions inside it
if politics brings in equal measures
epiphany & raucous fatigue
if elegance identifies itself in you
but you refuse to answer the call
if mirrors frighten & distill your neurons
one by one until you flee
if dragonflies look like holy vessels
& you pray to the sheen of their wings
if fame is one of many myths
gathered in your fist like grapes
if the will is a symphony performed
by all that your mind has not touched
if morning has no meaning beyond
the scents you ascribe to morning
if repetition is the name of doubt
& you believe at your center
if everything is faith or faith’s envoy
& faith is an insurmountable fact
if a window can contain infinities
& the self is a window
then safely you might describe your
rootless nocturnal ruminations as human
& you are suited to improvise a love
with which to trim & shatter obstacles
& the universe is moving toward you
with an invitation to the day
The Poet Economist 