Things That Will Be

Longing comes in winter

            – in summer the wood no longer

                  needs to be 

     chopped up

               and laid adjacent to “home”

in summer he does not need to be 

                      here anymore

           in summer he leaves a guitar

and his heart behind

       he leaves that place

              that place where longing was

              – insatiable                                                           

      that place where longing

could sometimes go away, in

                     wisps from his body, in

                light-touch answer

      brushes against his hair

                                   go away

In summer, he goes

               we cannot bring him back

                        more, of questions 

    in a single mind,

           than in god

                than of the world