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

arcane

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

life

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