sunday may 30 2010

Knowing yourself is a tool:
You crouch and use it
You dig and crush and mix
Yourself around
To see yourself
In some relief
But really
All that we build
It breaks down
That is the definition of life:
Breaking down.

If I could live as a tree
I would.
I would have leaves
And grow up and out
And I would regret
Nothing
And I would sing
Silently.

This wasp wants to build
Her nest in my deck
And we will have to
Crush it again
The nest built of her spit
We will get rid of it
I don’t like wasps
And I don’t like you
I will crush you too, certainly

Another relief is
Thinking about impending doom
But looking at the sky
You cannot help but
Relax into death.

I like phases
Things moving
Like the colors
In that sky over there
And like my foot
Which grooves over
Flat concrete
And sticks to dirt
And brings it everywhere.

Hanging
From a branch
Oh delicate assuredness
Of nature
That does not want
That does not fear death
That does not break
Without growth

I wish for a breeze
And I wish for nothing else
Just a breeze
I wish for nothing else
But a breeze
Please
I wish for nothing but that.