keepers of private notebooks are a different breed ..lonely rearrangers of things..malcontents..oracles
everything’s a little foreign this Spring things pop up
on familiar pathways strange venus flytraps 12! robins
screetchbob a peckerheaded wood sprite pecking for hours
will someone shut that fucker up?
before he becomes peckersoup
why yesterday a fugue-state so deep i met my father Lee
walkin on the Jericho Road his horse Tex following behind
father could whisper Tex into submission a whistle brought him flying
Lee’s knees press into horse-paunch turn left right stop bend down
take my girl aboard poet held on tight no saddle at 5 learned how to fly
on that old warhorse please excuse me while i kiss the sky 🐴 🐴
today i read about resilience that most humans are in fact NOT
broken by trauma they bend change direction grow new skin
over that which has been flayed
over a missing breast
over a stem to stern artery bypass
bladder vivisection brainsalad surgery
but for me the witness (where can I get a witness fer chrissakes?)
little Florence Nightingale wannabe resilience is just another word
for nothing left to lose
and knowing really knowing that no matter how unmoored I awaken
in the dark of night always glad to be me: sturdy purty +gritty don’t ask
__
..i’m not gonna hit ya the hell i’m not..
Spring 2025 ..warhorse poet a tad maudlin..🌻🐤 ..some of u gloat..
songanddancegirl 