I’m starting with some old stuff. This one’s about thinking and writing, and that’s all I’ll say…
A footprint on the moon? Yes, a step
In the once-happeningness of pilgrimage;
Then, the furtive overlapping of cloud.
My heart tills an alertness of love,
Setting store for tomorrow’s troubles.
I hunker down by the field of drought
To see what can be kept, what withers.
Seasons choose wetness or dryness
But human frames adapt, improve and swell
The harvest of mere accidents.
Still among scatter-crow panic I drop safe
In a hearth place of anywhere.
This hold of mind. This net of being.
These lines I press and furrow, my smudge
Among the the fingerprints of vision.