Winnowing
Let’s say husking, but really its just stringing truthlikes. Yes, the truth is priceless but what’s given is quickbaked.
I mean, imagine the singular: the given self:
Fractured, startling – a genealogy of
What is lost under the bleak; or what
is blooming at random. Sometimes, I
want to stab something good – just
plunge into a bloom & say:
“see !”
Okay, the present is not explained. You may remember the unfalling, but really you plagiarize.
*
The self alone is harboring. No man is an island. There are two reasons to a life
(a) exploration
(b) despair
& the road not taken is spectacle.
*
A dream: someone scratched open my arm. Forth: blood. Forth: words. Forth: sparrow & flying & lightsounds. Then, came my heroines.
*
So like a greek play.
The horror of exposure: you looked for a door.
found one, and
so it was.
*
Inching forward – admit the impossible: the ungripping of the heart.
The scouring of what you would hold dear to what
is merely chemical.
Remember: an oak can’t thrive in a flower –pot.
Yes, this is overgrown,
but, lush, all the same.
We are all gardeners.
blog of poet, leah umansky 