Why focus on the human?
Relationships, emotion, constant commotion —
I don’t want to write about internal clockwork anymore,
Not another poem about restlessness and recklessness,
Turmoil, heartbreak, passing love, loving the past.
Outside the mind,
Is a world of inhuman wonder,
A prism of nature’s colors.
What if I wrote about a tree, a leaf, a bird,
A star, a scar, a lark, the dark,
The languid lizard sunning in the ruins,
The wisps of whites of clouds,
As they vanquish the moon.
The crow and its cronies,
The doe and its babies.
The butterfly,
The jackal!
Blues so vivid the blueberries burst,
Reds, oranges, electric white, rising with the smoke,
A tear in the sky,
The echoing of heaven,
The tree blackens and splits in twain.
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