Counting down the years with some remorse 

Breaking through the walls to see some light

Turning over stones better left untouched  

To make all the wrongs somehow right 

---

It’s hard to be this old and ‘ve not learned enough

Harder yet to be wise and ‘ve learned too much 

Is there really anything to know anyway 

Or are some stones better left untouched

---

I’m gonna ride into the wilderness 

To feel the wind 

Blowing through the cottonwood trees 

and chase the wind until it falls asleep 

to rest on the stone’s at my feet 

---

Had another restless night remembering  

Woke up clenching that same old stone 

Some stories need no more narration 

Why can’t I leave well enough alone 

---

I’m gonna ride into the wilderness 

To feel the wind 

Blowing through the cottonwood trees 

and chase the wind until it falls asleep 

to rest on the stone’s at my feet

---

A life spent polishing the unforgiving stone 

is finally laid to rest

Bejeweled by the roughest stones 

They say she looks her best

---

I’m gonna ride into the wilderness 

To feel the wind 

Blowing through the cottonwood trees 

and chase the wind until it falls asleep 

to rest on the stone’s at my feet

Stephie left for KU Monday. 
In a U-haul. 

I am still standing in the driveway watching her drive off.
Too fast, of course. 

She turns right and the truck leans left. 
I am sure everything we so carefully packed is now in a pile against the left wall. 
Slow down! I plead 
Waving both arms dramatically as if I hold flags landing a plane.
 As if she can see me. 
As if she might look in her rearview mirror for my guidance. 
She does not. 

No matter. 
She has a left hand turn ahead. 
It will all even out before she finally arrives. 
Too fast. 

Yes. 
It all goes way too fast. 

Defining the stages of life is defying life. I am – – – defined by – – – Am I really defined by anything. Describe how it feels to be so sick of “now” that you leave “now” for another time.

Some of us have to know to feel safe. Others feel unsafe the more they know.

Neither really knows – do they.

They just play with experiences and memories to understanding something. But what is there to understand? Or know? The stages of grief? Ok. Schrodinger’s quantum mechanics model? For some. Perhaps we might just learn something by not knowing. What do you think about that!

Defining

Writers the world over love words. The sound of a word that depicts the experience and builds on the readers felt sense to a point of being there. Precision matters to a poet. Words have meanings! They do. Each word counts. So why is it that we want to define this world for each other to see our view and evoke our audience to experience what we see?

I don’t know.

Defined

Settling into a defined state of anything diminishes everything. Yet we all play with our role and others views of our “self”. Worst of all we believe them. The I that is not me and those in the audience ready to define me in some absolute way. Nope.

Describe

Describe what it means to hold your child. Describe the feeling to the person who caused you to feel it. Describe why it matters to you that… try feeling and sensing. Try holding on to what you “know” with a loose grip. And then stop trying and when you’re ready, stop telling stories and just soak in the experience.