these short days are
filled with long
shadows, even at noon.
the shroud of
frozen leaves jacketing
the sticky tang
of critter. I
have searched these
dead places for signs
of who I was and
have found
nothing. but the
day and the next
day. and yet:
I am awake
again, for the
first time. alive: I cock
my head at the
cuspidated wind.
I am here. (I
am always
here.) and I am
everthing I have
ever forgotten. (I
always was.)
I am short
on sound. I
am long of ear.
TAGS: DailyRothko | Dogs | Fall | Fall2014