we cross the cornell auto-rubicon 
(not the utopia parkway*)
to get to the sanctuary
after a roll in the leaves 
when we again can breathe 
before we contemplate the return journey.


*i read that around the turn of last century the utopia land company bought farmland between jamaica and flushing, laid a grid they called utopia planned as a haven for jewish immigrants and went bankrupt before the dream. later it became the strangely involuted utopia of joseph cornell, his brother, mother, and his lonely magic boxes.