Saturday, April 6, 2019

attente


don't know when it happened exactly

~ which hour of which day ~

the palatable exubruance & thirst for sun 
gave way 
to a lament for the moon

my movement
my being 
my hours 
spent 
in 
quiet unruckus'd preparation
for 
ducks-in-a-row clarity 
corners cleaned of cobwebs 
piles of life linear with logic 
dust swept devotedly 
from the totem objects of my accumulation 
flannel smooth
moonlight quickening 
tassels trimmed & pressed 
set free from lingering gypsy dreams

as if

should the wind be just right from that place of sun 
well then ... 
everything will be

as if 

I was never here 
or maybe 
my departure will come with
no burden
no adjustment 
or maybe 
I am just merely passing thru
pausing here

as if
waiting

for 
just the right 
wind