eccentric impoverishment


I believe in odd things

in the creeping things of scripture

in the texture of flower petals

that hold the elixir of hope

for nature


in that which doesn’t last but

really does

kind encounters with strangers

(kind when strangers encount-

with me)

joy in small things

joy even on a day that’s dim

with unlined sky

for creative impossibilities


the world doesn’t value the


things or my eccentric way of

loving them


so how am I to live


in response

I do not know is first

with fear closely behind


how do I live for real I mean


how does a world set so differently

(or I so differently to it) agree

and arrange to pay for who I am

and what I do and how


how do I find my way with

only colors in the corners

if I must direct myself toward

a blander needle point


but I need the life of hope in

creativity with the world


who salaries that


who pays me

for that artful amorphous