The Beginning

Once upon, hungry consonants got caught on the middle of a line, a long time ago. It happened on a silver night, a sliver of moon in the sky. If I could, I would tune the violin, pour the gin, crank the reel of film. Oh endless believers, she can weave gold if you believe her. Oh startled stranger in the margin, I’m just getting started. Watch me take a tiny spoon and sip from craters of the moon. Go ahead, release your concerns like hounds. I howl back too. Back before, long before the beginning—even the trees don’t remember the fire—pages flipping, fanning, turning to The End before everything. Quite a while back, a long time ago, I just wanted to write and say, I had to go—stories begin sprouting along rows of beginnings: Once upon I’m sorry I came at all. A shard of glass stuck in my heel, a far place ago. I walked the red line I made and a whole world began to grow.