Friday, May 6, 2022


When we first wake, 
if we're fortunate,

we are granted, perhaps,
one minute

when all the world is mist
and dimmest light
and innocence;

when our calcified grief 
over things 
we have done 

is mistaken, 
in our stupor, for 
the heavy pall of sleep 

and the fathomless morning 
spread out before us 

is a sweet, unblemished 

that's been carrying on 
flawlessly for ages 
without us—

and as soon as we can
pull ourselves 
together enough to think 

of a purposive way 
to insert ourselves into it, 

that's when 
we notice: the minute
is gone.