the antilogic of sorrow

for frank boyd



i am looking for you

in trees 	between

birdspeak &	leaves

figuring	you must be there

because science says		energy

does not depart        only changes.

i am	scouring the atmosphere—   i

must not	understand death	at all

for i keep expecting 	    you to

appear		one		lifespark

at a time	hoping that

if i caught	 enough		

i  could		 	collect them

in a jar & age them 	    cautiously.	i’d	

mix them into a 	batter	

       once they matured	bake

    them 	into a pie or a cake:    	    then

you’d reappear	      w/a 

little laugh at the hoax		of

your demise	shake yourself	      free of crumbs

& continue		where you left off.