Poetry

I thought maybe I would write a blog entry
about what’s become of this blog,
about how pairing the pictures connects to walking the land,
about how writing poetry became a spiritual practice.

I was going to
Explain about
My decision to use only
Pictures I’ve taken myself
The world through my eyes.

I might have told you
About setting an intention
To be visible
Even when it’s uncomfortable
Because Spirit said so
And I am accountable.

But that too turned into a poem.
Apparently, there is no turning back

You could have demanded poems from me
Under threat
Or reward
For 40 years
And I still don’t think I would have
Gotten into it

Prose was comfortable
Complete
Control
A mathematics of language
Capable of
Bringing sense to a
Senseless world

Now the tumbling
Relentless
Gibberish
Of social media
Impersonates meaningful
Conversation
Neither poetic nor orderly
Like a run on sentence
Misconstrued click bait
Lies more true
For having so many speak them

Yet the trap
Is set
Less with understanding
Than with longing
For connection
Pavlovian
Anticipation
Of human touch

I don’t want to be an artist
I just want a creative life
I told them
Years ago

I want to find words
For the nonsense
I was never able to feel

I want to learn how to cavort
Again
Without tripping
Over perplexed stares

I used to take pictures
Of animals at the zoo
Or geometric shapes around me
My camera
Used film
And the images that came back
Never seemed
Confused about
Me

Writing poetry is
Like taking time
To remember my own
Possibilities
Uninterrupted

Quiet images
Holding space
A brief respite
From clamoring crowds
Painting me into
Unknown corners

Carving out space for
Meaning
Beyond the imposed
Grammar of unknowing