thank you

9/6/24

thank you to the poets who wrote when we didn't love poets. when the storehouses were full with illusions and our American Dreams were being realized and fatted 



when our favorite lines came from muscleheads who were baffled at anything in their way and we guffawed with them from our easy chairs



thank you to the visionaries who interpreted dreams and slept in the basements and nurtured little saplings springing through the crevices of their aching hearts while the stony world marched on. it's easier now but I was also with you in the dark and I saw you when your pages found light and when you tried to make friends 


when the world was

harder

and didn't mess with musicals or fanciful phrases or prophets 

and 

preferred anything 

punctuated and 

precise.



oh it seems worse now because it's all churned up, but the soil is soft. you can feel it underfoot.



your seeds scattered on your near-dying breaths and called forth a field of wildflowers



now we can grow anywhere.