clean the cat pan -
Where is the dream thrust, some days? The swirl
in the air of imagined paths,
colors that transform the air to a palette for the lungs?
I brew tea and
stare at a journal page,
pen loose in my hand.
Who IS it I want to meet?
Where IS it I want to be?
What IS it I'm circling, inside,
guts rolling like a bad sea?
I need to go look in the mirror and SEE.
There has to be
something in my eyes right now,
an explanation, or
the right question to
lead me -- somewhere!
I'm too old to beg to be led astray -- aren't I?
Or is that the adventure I'm missing?
hindsight and hunger.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009