Self-Editing

Wild now with growth from winter’s rain
the back of the garden catches me
with tendrils of this and that
and abundant flying things do buzz and reply
to the fragrant jasmine and fruit trees nearby

There are two paths now through the jungle
one way to the pond
the other to the shed
I go through open door of air to a chair
with open book seated and unread
I shed my color and loosen the draft to air
to see myself with kind eyes but still find disrepair

Blooming and tall in need of nip-tuck and direction
no hedge I keep I am this wild way beguiled
the path I take is like a child in pony’s trot
within the room of me I open all the windows
there unlocked within a song set free
that has found its way by light of shadow into me
past the monsters hiding in the copse it strums
into the opening glen to find each minute just begun

So Far

There is so far to go
before the beginning and the owl’s watch
across the woods it seems is fair
and all the little things are there
so far so far

To find the expanse of air and sing
oh I know how
it comes up from the heart to start
and warbles greenly filled and stilled
can’t find a name to make a title
above the place where sound travels
can’t find the syncopation right
but feel it flood me in the night
then soon as time turns down the dark
it’s gone like white wine in the park

And there is so far to go
to the end of this you know
all fluttered and gaining wing
I hide in underneath of things
waiting for the wind that’s mine
around about and under rhyme

Catch me can you see the cloth
I wear in color magic gloss
at last to see the beams of trees
below the fastest part of me
less the stumble rock of air
will know the me so hard placed there

So touch this substance known as real
and kiss the doubt off cold
then seal
with all the little things out there
so far so far