we see only what we want to see.
a case of copier paper,
scratches on the back of a seat on the public bus,
detail of grasslands,
smoke and music.
the question is whether it happened or not.
a hate zest of evidence,
a void filled in:
the “explanation”.
there is the absorption of the moment.

then, there is only the sky.

I wrote this as a response to Joy Harjo’s piece entitled Perhaps the World Ends Here in writing group one night not too long ago. Her poem is so beautiful, I don’t hope to match its power, but just wanted to share all of it. Sometimes the world calls, and only poetry can answer.

I’ve been really busy this month with guests in town, conferences, and changing jobs. So, I’m taking a little time to adjust, and I’ll be writing and creating again in a few weeks…

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