Notes found on the refrigerator June 2019
I burnt my breakfast with brown butter and garlic.
It rose above the perfumed oiled scent of progress;
—creeping through the cracks of window sills
wafting silently, carrying the day’s
chain-linked smog…breaking in with
—my paycheck’s upcoming arena.
Oops, I meant, aroma;
at that moment I choose to linger
asking for a cherry tree.
I welcome the reservation that you
have set aside for me.
No need to build me a fence—
I am locked inside.
Do I talk to myself? Him and me?
Of course! Who else would listen?
How would I know when to stoke the wood stove
and make coffee, home fries, and scramble eggs?
I always tell myself what to do.
I am vetted by my soul
what ever gets you through the door
with remorse for the past
forgiven for illusions
you can enter
and begin to teach
without your apologies
nor being forgiven
but with forgiving.
whatever gets you through the door.
anyone up for coffee,
home fries, and scramble eggs?
Earth raises up seed
Shinning light sinking on sea
Blinking bright new stars