DAHLIAS
I want to go until I can slide it home
and just right here die in place. This
enormous burden, this hefty carry-on
grows wearisome to me. Yet, in the
frame of living I do, the light is too
good to darken and I wish to go on
painting forever. Two mixed feelings
in one mixed mind. I've heard of
Dahlias, but don't know what they
are, wouldn't recognize one before
me. It's like an unknown Jesus,
knocking at my door. Would I
again turn a stranger away?
Sometimes life is a fragrant
thing. Other times
it just stinks.
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