A Map of My Lesser Years

We wrote of the facefulls of wind
which would gnaw

the space
which wind fills readily again

space is not place but
is the possibility:

a twig in the sand then
crayon on rough paper

later with blue school ink
through a Parker medium nib

on lined paper I drew rockets
clipper ships, small whales

and large dogs smiling. And
windows against wind

the wind a group of lines leaning
against trees. A shape of trees.