The First One Fell (ef)

The first one fell without remorse
a hint of smile on its facet
it was never alone
even on impact
its undirected course
the only felony incurred:
the stealing of the autumn lawn and the untintended ankle
sprained at indelicate landfall
askew, but only the first one knew
the exhilaration, the acceleration.
If one will do it the others will too,
that for all the friends who jump off bridges
because the other friend, too, knew-
it takes an eon to reach the ground...
as if each tiny hand to another’s hand was sewn,
then blown
from that high cloudy precipice
to precipitate.
The first one fell
and the million followers, too
small white crystal lemmings
so close, their bodies on the autumn lawn-
not a peak was left,
just white and on
they lay so close together
as if each tiny hand to another’s hand was sewn.

Concomitants (ef)

I will die of many things
long before I’d die of loneliness.
I will die one million times before
solitude will be the infection, that raging sore-
I have reached out
and perhaps over-defined
nevermind-
It is the foil to unaccompaniment:
this soul never feels alone,
without music to support the principal voice.
Will death diminish this
impact or effectiveness?
I would die before I’d see this so-
and never know
nevermind, let it go.
Sometimes high-
I see over all these things and into the pure heart
of the matter-
so that when low and the crowd of things grows
thick and fatter,
keep at the top of memory
the finer oils, the lighter things afloat.
Easy to find, familiar haunts-
Will I be born a million times and still
find these concomitants?