i've lost many things in the snipes and scars
of days always ending in y, and now i lose me.

a forest of webs crossing the shadowed pathway,
i know each leaf's giggling at my consternation.

nudging their limbs to 'pass it on!'
a mother and child both giggle at me.

this joke is tiring on one's soul
and gives eternity a new name.

is this the same forest henry david thoreau saw?
is that him? the tall one among the three?

at least i found the ashes, still warm.

04/14/2008

Posted on 04/14/2008
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