— “And where does the shoulder end, the breast begin?”
Make me a poem, make it warm for winter.
Dark ocean, give us sail.
May it be cheap to live in—the soul.
Let’s inhabit the mind for a long, short time.
Here in our heavenly quarters:
Spinoza—most secret thoughts.
Love. Black sky.
Like a falling leaf
The boy in me
How to take him with me
As the years advance?
Finnish poet Paavo Haavikko:
I hear a happy tale, it makes me sad:
no-one will remember me for long.
He was never “in” time
Like those oaks you see
In certain forests
Though there’s more of darkness
And we’re long into December.
“Dead man’s music is nighttime, call it earthly, call it planetary.”
Difficult keeping a journal with silly phenomenological crayons…
I come too seldom down to the water.
The neighboring lake.
When a horse passes me
I feel his mystery.
One Day (A Micro Disability Memoir)
He sees at last infirmity is a trick.
something achieved with string,
a game played best on the floor—
puzzle, wish, fear, and ache
are what a magician is for.
Its raining as always
but he has a stick
and he waves it at the orient wind.