los regalos

premonitions

grey memories of a tenderness not yet lived.
a spirit with out eyes or hands to recognize
moves
in the dawn.

i walked

I walked alone on a dusty rode shadowed with the dry, empty branches of late winter. The warm weather was tricking some of them to bud, but one last freeze would come to shock them back to a season they thought they had forgotten. I thought I had forgotten the deepening of self in the tissue. It is occurring again. As I follow my heart, I become my body. The pieces fuse and sink in the relaxation of shoulders and intestines, face and kidney.

My metaphysical lonliness escapes in the company of
an open window
to the night.