eating whale along
a walkway like disputing identity. how to bolster self-love?
by carefree assassination,
never too alarmed, it seems normal—often surly, filled with anger, rebuking
open dialogue.
maybe a gentle
soul, needing variety, dying a smidgen.
touched by thought. avoiding my
mirror. a long day’s absence.
reflection hurts. it takes bravery.
if to look—if to notice wrongness.
maybe a spitfire
grandson, maybe a great granddaughter, maybe I’ll be back.
jaguar eyes.
deeper humility. sweet essence.
depth of
intellect. uneasy. a ghost inside. at
pains to survive.
misunderstood. filled with
fuels. out the jacket. stronger than
most, with a
deeper secret. trying closeness.
feeling captive.
no one sees the big ado.
woven into you.
part adversity. part disappearance. an inner lake, filled with mud, I keep
scooping chunks of us.
aside knapweed
near cedar blocks whittling cottonwood—fevered by daisies seeing my likeness
remains eaten by
hounds. ripples inside.
complaints to spouses. something to this or that; those people, those persons,
identifying self as upper echelon; places we might go, seated in stillness, one
cup of hallucinogenic tea.
running to self,
embracing self, a heaviness
in realities.
a soul is
distracted. he eats salmonberry. he tries
to communicate—deeper
values, deeper morals
into a circle—he spins
more.
