the road is only something we made.
the path is only what we crave.

i keep coming back,
to feet, to walk the well trod path.

oh Spirit growing ripe,
to be plucked by Death
from the Tree of Life.

not much unlike,

Earth. Sunning on celestial vine.

this circling in time, appears to mind, a line.

not this, not this,
said for the hundred trillionth time.

nitsa pomerleau: Equinox

nitsa pomerleau: Equinox: ....Edward Gorey

don't be so sentimental
let go of dark ways
of wasted days and waiting


light has found your eye again
are you going to turn it away?

What is opinion, but a fractured vision?
In every breath there is something I have not yet carried
Open hoping: to present, to presence, to death.
Feeling body, feeling mind that calls it mine.

I, loves you.
I am, and all Is die.
Would you hold me for a while?

the eternal lovers are too big and you can't see their gestures

nothing to delay

i have to remember this.

reconciliation

our ancestors probably huddled together on an icy train
now you and i sleep in peaceful nights
probably held hands up some far east mountain
all past times, only pastimes
your silly book of poems, now hardened into scripture
you've been wrestling with yourself for as long as you remember
you and i
some splinters from the center

all lost things will come scrambling back

drift with me
a softened story set upon the water

don't forget to put maca in your muesli

last night
I felt crackly and bad
the socks were disparaging
from their rickety wicker abode

Sat slumped in the closet
waiting for you to say nice things
to pick me off of the floor of myself

I can barely leave the house when socks don't go my way

this morning i awoke to your kind gesture
of shepherding socks
tied them to apron strings
so they wouldn't be hard to find
for my lazy searching