Friday, November 1, 2019

Three Postscripts to Yesterday’s Letter to Me

P.S. Cryptic Folding Haiku Triptych 

Even though I know
No response is adequate, 
And this world wants none,

The piercingly blue
Utah sky this afternoon
Makes an ache in me

I want to replace
With a blue poem of bare trees
Whose branches make space.

P.P.S. More Than This

When I asked myself
What more I wanted,
I was happy to answer
That I wanted nothing much,
Which led to discontentment.

The next time I ask myself,
I hope that I will answer 
Nothing, I want nothing more.

P.P.P.S. The Art of the Long-Winded Aphorism 

To command yourself
To not be anxious,
To not dither, as
If each little, least
Decision mattered,

As if decisions 
Existed at all,
Is like commanding 
Guts to not hunger,
Your heart to not pulse.

Moral: what is absurd to dream of actually accomplishing may yet be worth approximation.

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