I Feel More Like I Did When I Came In Here Than I Do Now

I Feel More Like I Did When I Came In Here Than I Do Now
by Jeff Mock
Sure, all roads lead round again to the heart,
But I’m lost in some far province–a toe
Or finger, peninsula–alone, hurt,
Sincere, and inconsequential. Each moment
I wake to strange sunrises, jollity
In a foreign tongue, air that smells of fish
And oil, grinding of sphinxian machinery
Down by the shore. There are no roads in this
Terra incognita. No petrol stations
To inquire directions. No maps for sale.
No rocks singing out advice. When I come
Upon starfish, they point five ways. Wee snails
Lumber down the beach, inch-by-inching outward.
The ocean rears up and back, gone and going.
Up in the hills, campfires blaze and the stars
Snap on, I hear everywhere some heart thumping.