I wrote this last month and wanted to share it. It's been a long quite winter in regards to poetry, after such a flurry in the summer and early fall. Lots of painting though. :)
I know you want to do something true, honest.
That you want to make beautiful things, as real as a boot
falling from a chair,
or a bullet of resin embracing a pinecone, or a vase being filled with water,
but I would ask you
to wait, to not try and be
a vase filling up with water, to not
try and be resin sticking to a finger, to not
try and make a boot be supple.
To float a bit, to be at ease
Don’t worry. The words will come.
And the words will give you weight.