Wednesday, May 22, 2019


Morning on the Couch

the body becomes
a curlicue

afloat
in a sea of quiet

where I calmly
wander,

a vagrant
without walking

tucked within
a wonder where

I tarry, yet forget
to ponder, count
or strive,

and in this peculiar
emptiness everything's
at rest--

opening up
within

a fragrant
homelike
nowhere.

like a weed
after rainfall

or a toddler
at the breast.



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