I’ve always been good at being alone
and traveling roads that have no future
finding them when there were none too fine.

I find clarity and answers out where it is green
and brown, and where the river slouches on its banks.
Once, there was a ditch, not hard, and it slipped

into gentle and full of muddy water and where I would
find my celebrations and regrets.
It was yesterday that I stepped into that mayhem
and began an infinite drift.

Once I could touch my shadow
find happiness in the field of those youthful images.
The field was yellowed with blossoms and sunshine.

But when the time came the dreamy and whimsical
were washed away with sadness into the nape
along with the foolish thoughts of murky melons.

I’d rather be alone with all of my unclear
thoughts-and moods that seem relentless- in the place
where children grow like petals.