crossposted

i keep writing and not feeling like the poems are quite where i want them yet and always something else i am not saying that i feel a need to say or it comes out not exactly right or exactly like my reality, and becomes something else, so i am a bit frustrated. i need to edit but  i am not doing that lately. maybe later...

saw it long ago

photographs showed up from elsewhere
a time that did not exist here

some were grieving someone
someone, it looked like me

they came from
some other side of things
where sunflowers bloomed
in twilight
in a garden that looked like mine

they had seen what i had seen
they saw it long ago
they talked to me
through photographs
like the ancients
sometimes did

i saw the faces changing
on my friends and kin--
tattoos appear that weren't there
some say they were past lives
i was never sure, there was no telling

then i saw myself running in a dream
with red hair now
deep into the woods

i tried to help her
as she seemed lost
but she said don't bother
she had a best friend who was a wolf

so i went to a shakespeare play
playing at a pub
but part of me
stayed with her out there

later someone walked with me
down a country road
he showed me all the land
the woods on one side,
and on the other side
a field of corn

then i couldn't go back to town
even tho i liked all the people there
i just wasn't ready
to say goodbye

_________________


As a great fish swims between the banks of a river as it likes, so does the shining Self move between the states of dreaming and waking.

 - Brihadaranyaka Upanishad