It Just Happened

How it all happened is so mysterious despite science trying to explain everything. The colors of the bay, blinding white, sky blue, forest green. That this or that would reflect in such a way, divine beauty. No one said, “This is beautiful,” and then made it. It just happened. The unintentionality, the accidental nature, how unconscious it all seems is perhaps the largest wonder. No one could have deliberately made it all so perfect.

Damsels

Damsels climbed the rise

Pitifully beautiful women with scarlet tights.

April is the Cruelest Month

I breathe in the notion that poetry is essential to my life, to a good life, to the rhythm of things. But I haven’t read poetry in a long, long time. The contradiction, it is unsettling. There was a time when I read poetry every day, when silvery slick words poured thick into soft holes of heart and burst. These days are staccato and dissonant. The heart feels stippled like an orange past its ripe. I read it like Braille on the ATM machine. I don’t understand it, but feel hopeful that if I had to I could.