by Philip Kienholz
Recorded by author
On the move our roots were loose
I was still tracking our baggage
When will it let me leave it behind?
Can I leave any behind?
Did I
leave
any behind —
the little a migrant could carry
through borders with the body’s memories
some to be treasured
some others endured
New lifetime deconditioning the strictures of an old god
overwhelmed and charmed by a thousand cultures
ten thousand songs
Warming in a suit of carbon clothing I fumble
to unbutton
automobiles airplanes furnaces
The civilization fighting me
pins and needles me
stacks up government money
as if stories of our wellness
Unnumbered beings that coelesce and divide
their meanings multiply as swirls of current
in a riversblood.
In another universe one beyond language we
are yellow mulberry leaves trembling in an autumn
breeze and the breeze
Our knowing calling them forth
Imagine each
of us doing that
Thanks to the garden’s bur oak, beaked hazel, John
and Adam elderberries, quince, currants generous
leaves of our own wealth
composting
to seed bank of the soil
rooted now
in a river’s wide flood
Recorded by Carmen Rumbaut
Philip was born in Virginia, and grew up in Minnesota. He studied architecture and creative writing at North Dakota State University. He moved to Canada during the war with Vietnam, received a B. Arch from the University of Manitoba, and is now retired from professional architectural practice in Manitoba and Northwest Territories. Philip has published one poetry book and two chapbooks. Periodical poetry of the last two years is at The Closed Eye Open, Wild Roof Review, Nine Cloud Journal, Lucky Jefferson, New World Writing, Gravitas, Train: a poetry journal, Free State Review, Unpsychology Magazine, and The Write Launch.