Remembering

Beginnings
And the rest of lives
Have been always
Spiraling
Misspoken tonguefuls to me;

Boots, but worse — half-legs —
Muddied and mumbled
In the hall.

A thin light
Of late comeuppance
I once could tell —
Alone, near shore-shows —
That my hands could come around

When I went arriving,
Big as dawn,

And gunmen bled guns
In entranceways of towns
Embarrassed by graineries.

The good life
Is an ember-lined
Circle,
Unmapped

And recollecting.