I wrote this after reading some John Ashbery and James Cavanaugh, because well, I wanted to-- and they are different writers offering many options and feelings or no feelings at all. “I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe, millions of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. – James Cavanaugh
Solution to a View
What does it mean To wander into concrete places or an open field To dangle time like the wizard of waste something floats all around me and is serious but it could be nothing To be selfish And lonely Searching Through hills And unsure of the surprises in a melted state over discouragement And bewilderment of why I even cared about the View after it rained and after it displayed open access to death or a dream or my future noticeable and unwanted and unsure chills run through my veins and aching bones of the likelihood of this memory To these hills hands held high look down now on empty streets broken and mended like details of a mirror and out of respect for the view