In the strangeness of life, LIVE.

            —Maira Kalman, Still Life with Remorse

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It’s both easy to remember we are not in control

and easy to overlook how a moon changes reality absolutely

just as we do

in the morning

thinking

this “body”

our “life”.

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Go outside now

while it’s shining

waning from full

still filling the sky with light

and tell me

a rose is a rose is a rose

without smiling

at the smell

of love.

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Boundary confusions:

I confess I am lost.

He said he was lost I think.

I heard them say he’s lost again.

We can’t be sure of anything

is what it seems they want us to think.

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When I find I am with you

I myself become here

you make us happen altogether

we change reality

go ahead, do it

we (you & I)

dare you.

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Maybe there’s

no language after

all, just letters

touching

letters corresponding one to another in sequence

in an effulgent capacious explosion-drift of catkins

akin to distressed dandelion duff embracing

everything organic in the green canyon

even the plastic & human tragedy & queer chickadees

all beings by extension

included

if they can be spelled out

shape by shape connected

forming neuronal sparking collage

in these “heartminds”

our “time-being”.

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One blessing today

is that for a moment

we are here, present

with an urge to look

at nimble giant bumblebees

making out

in rich orange poppyflesh

beneath a canopy

of hopelessness

kinship

& grace.

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