YOU MAY HAVE MAY
The twirling of leaves and twigs is pretty
amazing - the overly-united wind is ripping
things apart. I carry a ladder into the garden, if
only to reach the windless sky. Nothing exists on
which to mount or lean these steps, so nothing of
it counts. Still looking, still looking, I wash my face.
-
The seedbag is filled with anything but : oats in a
cauldron, shafts of wheat wrapped in gum. My reasons
for things are simple : please the family, uphold my name,
and find a way to make off with the money. You can
have the rest, and you may have May. Sunlight. The
parchment deed to all things that are. Existence
itself - if you play it right - is within your grasp.
No comments:
Post a Comment