"I, too, want to be a poet...
To have the height to view
myself as I view others
with lenience and love" - Fanny Howe
It was just when I asked:
"Why is it that the only place on earth
that's not a prison
gives no sign that it exists?"
That you pointed out the sunset
that's been teasing me for years.
"Don't reduce the flowers,"
you said, "to propagation.
"Only a saboteur
knows their purpose,
and their meaning
has no end."
The sajuaros rose
as if listening.
"They accompany you in joy
or misery, that's your choice,
that's their beauty."
"But they are not" I said,
"the things I seek. I become,
before them, something hollow, invisible."
"You believe
you have no value
just perceiving,
you must display,
so says your ego,
who you are.
"But you are the light.
There is no other.
Just look at what you do."
I put down
the driver's seat
visor.
"Oh, my love, how can I
have faith in that,
in what I am, not what I see,
in what I will become,
instead of what becomes around me?"
"There's no separation,
don't you see?
"When you're not worthy,
how can God be?
"Your need for Him
will never
be relieved."
I slowed and grimaced
before a turning car.
"All I see is
loneliness and war,
and connections dangled
from above like magician miracles.
"Where is there room for me that isn't taken?"
You laughed,
"Will you ever
discern the difference
between jack shit and a hole in the ground?
"You're not the first to think you must be better than the rest
'cos you feel less."
The red light
burned the sky.
"The world goes on
just fine
without me,
why should I
stand in between?"
You looked at me
knowing
what my words
protected,
what my wounds
meant,
how important
it was
to the world
that I speak.
"You hide and hide
and then you cry
that no one sees you."
The only thing
moving
was cars.
"The work of light
occurs in darkness"
The lights went on
like they were one.
"To love the light
without loving
darkness equally
is not what love is
really"
It was then
the wheel felt
just like stone.
"My love,"
I paused,
"I know, I just
don't want to go where
I've wasted my life
so far, a common schmuck
who looked to others
to save me if they could
from myself."
I was holding
against a pulling
in the westerly direction.
"I know you're not
alone, my dear,
in that, for I
have screamed
at moving stars
and silent gardens
"Too, because
the love I am
could not stand still
for any portrait."
When you said this
the world of form
revealed
that it was formless--
the gears and motion
were the same.
There was no right-
or wrong-ing,
just a horizon
with some room
for anyone with eyes
to share
the view.
