Twice a train has passed after I cross its rails.
Not interesting, right?
Very normal thing
for a train,
to be on rails,
but it's happened twice.
Am I lucky?
Or am I trying to grasp meaning,
where there is none.

I skip, across a streaming, upon random~laid
flat and comfortable flat flagstone stepping stones,
from poet to poet, color to color, poem to poem,
Auden to Whitman, Schuyler to
myself, a dingaling notion, an errant word,
the here to there, all randoms, yet,
oval chain linked all,
a question posed, an answer unknown,
a reference to an old Italian myth,
and there, and here, a body,
comes to rest,
& also,
comes to rest…

<>

led not by the nose, but the single fingered
tip that guides across a landscape patterned
painting, lost but never a loser, each implants,
each imbibes, and the H&H^ alternatively
rumbles, pounds, vibrato burns erratically,
and the difference between a life in love,
and a life in poetry,
is not a line dividing,
but a path combining,
and the only sign
upon the road,
is never a reddened "stop!"

always just a soft lavender, so tender, inquiring,
requiring, deep thoughts and reckless abandonment,
the only guide inspired when ecstatic adrift in
a season, a sea, any one of nature's designed
unlimited
schemata's of vista creations,
      is this, simply stated:


What?
<>

postscript

6:27 Sabbath Sep 27
nyc
after a sunrise glorious, where
the windows eastern facing
make an irresistible irrational
pattern of golden yellow reflecting,
mirrors, and
after reading much,
and so I too, reflect, vista, vista,
what do you see, I see…What?

after reading a poem by James Schuyler,
entitled (yes, we are)
"What"^^

i was gonna stop there
take a breath
i think i saw you
in a set of eyes
but you might've been
in disguise
again

when am i
gonna see the real
you
no
the real you

I got a why not a what.

before I often asked myself "What am I going to write now?"
"What topic or content am I going to produce?"

but now I learned to ask myself, "why am I writing this?"
"Why am I giving so many reminders to my poems or prose or monologues?"

I get that a lot. they said, your eyes are the window to your soul. so, whatever your audience reads, they invite an energy based on the one you wrote.

I also wanted to leave either a lesson or a reminder to my readers. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Entertain good energies, not negative ones.

what can there be that
i haven't seen every
thing every when

hello I see you not
we are here
walking somewhere
my imagination