Poem by Florence Weinberger

Point us the way not to any fixed point
             but to the widest shore where we would

step out onto some desolate place of unrescue
             seek sustenance restorative as manna

follow paths hiding under burdened vines
             evident only to the remorseful eye

find companions banded by mutual need and rancor
             each driven like blind salmon

to the salt truth which

in Paradise drenches the ground, fertilizes the
             narcotic proclivities

that anytime we think to leave, we will bend our knees
             anytime we remember a city, a kiss

we will lie down until we sleep and rise and know
             every waking hour is sufficient