18 December 2011

thirty

I cried for the three days beforehand then looked around my life threw away the clutter made peace
once and for all with every moment each decision that led me to this place.

But walking away from you stepping out of the cold wordless morning into an anemic beam of winter light I see how this was really only child's play;

that the next thirty years at least and then probably the thirty after that will be the long hard work
of learning to live peaceably and wisely among other people's choices and the

nothing and everything
they've to do with me.

06 December 2011

Bows in arabesque.
Pristine naked loneliness
And branches like scythes.