This morning I hear on self
promise another, another. Gem
speak for all shapes in soul. No end,
little cares, only tables and chairs in
Healdsburg— people passing and wondering
where they’re going next— overhear them
planning their day, their angst revolves a
round leisure, driving and running from
one tasting room to next, what to sip
and just let the day from them get
away, ‘nother stray and I sit there jealous
of their joy. 1145 and I order a beer, Pilsner I think what who.
Breathe in square air, watch leaf fall to black
iron table. Cars honk, someone’s late for
time at some counter, some tasting flight, I
in observation’s oscillation making right
the scene around and in front of me, not
letting mood descend even microscopically.
My vacation as well I reason. The work is
a sour terrible treason. New songs and
tracks compiled in sitting. 2 sips left, switch
to water, then espresso, then solely what’s
proximal, holding me in place, emboldening
my way. Outside my own Personhood and
purpose, seeing my face and the shapes made.
More notes from a grocery patio— He asks his
wife, “We’re headed into the valley, right?” She
cites, “If that’s what you’d like.” Today, me,
them. We’re destiny-hemmed. No pretend. A
Beat and composition-send. Then, 2nd leaf
from a breeze bend.
9/9/18