Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Nothing is Simple

Amazing--my office window
Points precisely west at a pine
And a painted backdrop of grey
Clouds over blacktop and red rock.

This cinderblock and sheetrock cube
Quartering the old butcher shop
Where the blood drained against the last
Wall of a desert grocery,

This touching point between Duat
And the mundane world has caught me
In its rotating locks of lives,
Lost without the Book of Two Ways

To map a path for these last days
After the dreaming of escapes
Into books of kindly dreamings,
Before the weighing of the heart.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.