a living thing

silver water.jpg

I tried to paint the moment–
gray breezes, and the lake.
I could smell our old farm

which way is up.jpg

and all the memories tumbled
into some new life
like how the yeast is

dough.jpg

so all of this is not death
what we sang and tasted and wrote
leaf showers and dry wells

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Lying in a field of violets somewhere in Wisconsin contemplating my purpose

I wrote for my mother
I wrote for my child
back then, I wrote for my lover
and a friend
and I wrote for God.
Once under a lunar eclipse
I wrote for myself.
Are these the right answers?

I understand
that you have all the answers
you have said
they are already in my head
I write from my heart
for no one but myself
Is that the right answer?

I write for myself
I write to share
I write to contribute
to the common good
to the community of this village
to add my voice
Is that the right answer?

You told me to seek myself inside
I want to be cock-sure
to question why I can go silent
when he does not see you
see me
when he does not see us
I still put words in a daisy chain.
There is your answer–

from now on

paint on canvas.jpg

 

 

the skies are clear
and
I am still blue
with you and your rough ways
I am
left wanting
with you and your
recklessness

the door is shut
I have turned out the light
there is no path
for you here
anymore
measured cruelty
disguised as friendship
(I don’t let anybody)
fool me
(any) more

blue skies approve
the thrush that lands
watching me slap
paint on a canvas
and these benevolent breezes
caressing
seeing that
I am not alone

retreat





packing heavy
sorting all of it
in the front room
at the moment of departure
taking one bag
and the sandwiches
leaving the rest
for something bigger
that does not function well
with heavy luggage

destination away
via untraveled trails
rough divots and fences
new green smells
old-timey feeling
I encountered
when I was ten
and still had grandparents

the skies
remain the same
with the absence
of street lamps, and
strip malls
a better fate than shopping
when you find you do not
need anything else

no sleep
no inclination
to count the days
measuring quality of life
sucking up remaining air
reclining
sucking up oxygen
and strawberries