February 27, 2012 (I
was 67)
I ache to wake break bed to get up and
go
through motions
designed to shed recline
out of repose
and into some clothes
and I do what
I see to be done to do
Not to be
wallowed in grief or swallowed
by the
enormity of the construct perceived
I smoke a
token of the talisman plant
to decide
which ideas should be ideas in deed
Something must
be physical and use real muscle
sweater the
better the only skill the will
to breathe
into mind oxygen sublime
breath
breathed by so many breathers before
Creation
creates its own pace and slow
is measured
one measure at a time
and at a tempo
that tempts one to dance
Earth and moon
to and fro do-si-do
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