walking
backwards
and
I can’t see
where
am I headed
nowhere
no doubt
too
fast
ending
up
side
down
but
turning
each
side
to
see what is to be seen
no
one can tell me
what
it is
that
one painting
is
like no other
inspiration
comes from somewhere
brushed
strokes
illuminated
by
the
golden eye
of
the universe
can’t
name the color
spot
still surrounding
my
sight when I
close
my eyes
thought
on one
far
from here now
days
counting
backwards
to reach
the
day when I
travel
again
to
watch the moon rise
and
setting
thoughts
cleansed
long
walks with mother
sitting
by the stream
being
nothing
needed
but
the voice
and
the eyes
desire’s
flood
receded
completely
prostrated
on
the
hard wood floor
mother
created
waiting
for the moon
nothing
concluded…
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