Have to confess that rather than writing consistently to start the year, it’s been stops and starts. Quick bursts of output and then days of dormancy. Since I don’t want to bore anyone more than they might already be, all that is to say that I happened upon one of the bursts last night and that the following poems is one of the results. Minor edits here and there, but this otherwise hot off the press. Or the notebook, if you prefer.
these these flowers: they too will disappear; wishing for more & a less-than-dying world unclinging to its unself, unmade by its unliving, these flowers: they too will disappear; waiting for their need, needing for their dream & dying for their life.