don’t know why I said and wrote that,

but it’s what popped in my head and rings true. Like something is close, yet I am missing it. Cuttings and photographs, pinned on a board, rise behind my computer monitor. I, at last, began decluttering the office and put it there yesterday. Can only see half of it, but that’s OK. I know exactly what’s on it. A clipping of TAMING The Wild I saved for the fonts. The rest are rooms, clothing, a woman stretching,

(tender)

S

K I

E S


be still

is on a wooden block, and I peek at it on the right-hand side of the window sill. From Psalm 40 — one of my favorite lines. Am I on the right path? On any path? Is it better to be on no path than to be on the wrong one? Silly, being on no path = being on the wrong path because you’re not on the right one.


 distance yourself from lies: from your own first | the ones in your mind | the ones that block your heart

that’s written in my notebook, written yesterday


in my immediate vision,

I see order, though peripherally, there’s immense chaos. Quite often, I look beyond the surface and beyond what’s near, yet seldom do I walk there. I tread, circle. What would happen if I open the door and walk right in?

not taming but

w a l k i n g   i n t o

“Are you right, or are you wrong?”

Can he see more than her face, beyond the words, see her soul flowing through the jungle of her heart beneath her skin?

Like A Blue Thread

i did not digress, i meandered