2 days in this city & I cannot find myself
though I suspect that’s the point;
but I am beginning to understand
that might be the appeal
especially when there is no self
to find.
– from field notes, 7.18.26
Tag Archives: American poem
Towards Towhead Island
back in the firebox
calliope notes riding the breeze
these mental mooring lines
unknotthe boilers sings its fire song
the paddlewheel rolling us upriver
against the current
towards Towhead Island
to turnaround and return
[from Field Notes]
Running fast and flooding
that clean squeaky air / the morning after a thunderstorm / running fast and flooding streets built through former backwaters / July sweet July / it sings its song / I wait for the next note
[ad notare 7.7.26]