“Come on along,” Uncle History says
Channeling Robert Frost—
You come too…
But then he forgets his way
(Looking backwards
Will do this to you)
Crustacean travel
You might call it
And its easy to fall down
As the ancestors
Left stumbling blocks
And its easy
To forget
Where you started
Lost among the mud colored houses
At dusk
“Where did I begin?”
“Whose path is this?”
“Yes I’m talking to myself”
The self-behind me
This last minute affair
Of nostalgia
And fear
On the barren tracts
Where a forest once stood
Just outside the city
Planet of the Blind 