blog of poet, leah umansky

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.