you are not in the fossil record
this daily life seemed real and unreal simultaneously
houseguests left and the monsoon arrived
I lay in your arms and wished for nothing more
“I use my imagination,” the tiny girl said
hummingbird moths startled us
there are borders everywhere: sometimes it is Canada, sometimes the River Styx
I thought ice cream might improve things and I was right
I’ve spent my entire life debating silver filigree earrings
I once had gills, but don’t tell my lungs
I am not interested in the unknowable—true or false?
the answer is a question
and the question?
that’s no answer
Love the mysterious tenor of this poem. Agree about the ice cream, improves everything!
I once read that Neruda used an authoritative tone even if the line was obscure–always aspire to that! Thanks for reading.
This is wonderful! Thank you so much.
Thanks Pat. When I can hit that tone I want…my day is made. The poem, too.
Ice cream and existential theology in one poem…so very Mir.
How fortunate I am to have you as a friend!