Discarded sketches of self-pity

      Discarded sketches of self-pity


   *

I had left a space for a poem
that would not come.
A space laid to waste, to fallow,
a heart lukewarm, hung to shrink.
The evening tucked away.
To grow, grow another time,
to lean into the longing.

   *

I practiced breathing, the hard part of yoga
but I'm still lagging behind time
well past midnight.

   *

So many ties to knot together,

the pulled strings resonate joyously

for desperation is in short supply.

   *

One boy's night-time bed:

a vehicle to a world light decades away.

The immense scope of what is

and the cozy habitat we carry

into the harsh boundaries.

Growing out of troubled childhood

a more gracious universe.

   *

Where are you, my surprise,

what thread of the unknown

will you let me pull on,

the frown thread, or the smile,

or the autumn's brown,

all to weave the rainbow

you thread on,

how do you go about, my surprise,

in the pearly shadow

in the hazy town.

   *

A glimpse in a quiet dream

the glittering city

from indistinct exposures

like the prototype tree

of anti-unification

like the forbidden fruit

taunting me with lights

held up to the night.