Music becomes a clatter
               then music again

               
The end not being accomplished by attainment
so much as being proven to have been attained

               
long ago

               
a time when we finally turn
           and see what was there despite our having been there

               
beautiful human beings
                all

               
beams of light

           where the bullets entered

between things blurring not to the point
of being indistinguishable, but softening
the parts of myself normally barred

from each other. More than where
public and private selves merge,
here is where the selves I might

become are cast on those I’ve been.
Here is where one learns to lay claim
to nothing.

I wake, my not-yet-self
projecting back on the life I rise into.