Tempting as it is, to turn inward, write of long Winter and why
capture in ice outshines
the languid motion of sharing
tempting as it is, you are the subject not I.
A linguist of worlds
using your machine to stitch together discrepancies
you see no undertow
only thick muscles of rowing souls, garnering energy toward shoreline
and I envy you, Neon Dahlia
your simple, productiveness
how from nothing, comes nothing and still ..
unaware you are treading water.
I could tell you
look here, can’t you see? The futility
but I already know your answer;
what is futile, is in the mind
all else, just imagined sabotage
here in this seized moment, is the bare humus of your life
you live only once, don’t you want to fill it with all the experience you can gather?
your arms aching with fullness like flower sellers under hot tarp, salvage hunger with each purchase.
When we offer our wares to others, in rosary of conversation
people catch your drift, their eyes lit by your straightforward certainty
it’s all worthwhile, prophet.
I once told you, you could be a preacher, a cult-leader, a milliner of minds
you could repair holes in fabric like a peach grower will
tend bruised fruit carefully until they heal
It’s all about faith, you radiate certainty
whilst I, gather mud for drinking and sloshing
in my opaque jar
like an unlucky fisherman will
repeatedly cast into shallows.
All my life I thought I knew
and the only thing I knew
was fear and habit, giving in to safety.
Take a risk, you urged
planting your runner beans, spinach and kale
in straight lines like braided hair
gleaming against fecund soil
and my fingers already felt
I had lifted the world by its rudder
held on long enough to solidify, all possessed calcium
it was impossible to find a way to cast as you did
watching the silk of your net, catch sunlight and fall
glittering into emerald tide.
The funny thing of course
you are afraid of water
and I, a prodigious swimmer
often likened to merfolk
coming from an island, I thought by speaking loudly, I could ward off choked demons
caught by the foot in gullies and rivulets
but they only submerged like setting sun
will drink up light and diffuse emotion
becoming part of me
as surely as you
set an example
unable to emulate.
This is the green bark of us
defined by lines of growth and pause
long enough to extinguish, tentative pathway.
You have your courage
buried in a tinder box deep within
it needs no flint to ignite
whilst I, scrabble and flounder for matches, in deluge.
Fate ridicules the human
who thinks themself free of need
believing they can exist without
the certainty of man-made God
and reassuring bleating call, of others of their kind
gathering their flock tight, before darkening storm hits.
We all beseech uncertainty
when trembling, frailty picks herself from floor and witnesses
that vulnerable moment, nude and dried, by calloused hand of self governance.
I may not share your peace of mind
nor ever, the nimble way you stay
calm like unbroken water
in face of specter and uncertainty
your heart beat steady, like a bow needless of guide.
Mine is the anxiety, of my generation
thwarted by ourselves and that throbbing vein
dearly seeking for meaning, in tea leaves
your glow only brightens
the further out, you wield
that impossible certainty, you polish
with the soft foot fall, of early Spring