Thought turns to cows -
Rainclean
the day rises in fullness
gladdening everything
under its canopy
a celebration of small things,
morning
moonrise
and the cow whose nose
froths the wet grass
with pearled
breaths
one upon the other,
free of
sorrow.
Ah, I breathe that in.
My writing this morning was filled with a mist of tears not yet dropped, and yet, I, too, felt "free of sorrow."
We wrote from the same place.
Three Days til my Second Chemo Treatment
Taste
what is
here now
in the
moist realm
of tears
held
right
behind my eyes
waiting
to fall
from warmth
and open
outside,
perhaps
to slide down
my nose,
even
into my mouth,
a circular ride, for those tears,
not ready yet,
to dry,
to the
crystalline structure,
of salt
on my cheeks -
not ready yet to fix in form
what loves to move
through me now,
like a line of cows -
Bow
to the taste
of the green of the grass,
one atom
than the flow
of blood
cleansing
the heart
and the lungs.
Adraimycin -
Can I see it as cleanse?
Red fluid pushed
through my vein
by a
nurse,
named
Martha,
as I chew the cud of non-thought,
like a cow,
peacefully planted,
on the plains