We are so lightly here. –Leonard Cohen
Yesterday was slumbrous. Once
I wanted more. The tricks and spoils have split—
spoiled and spilt like milkweed.
My faith is slight. I readily detach.
All of my sour sexual need
has long departed. To be a part
is to be apart. When I’m still,
don’t think, she’s lost in thought.
I’m not lost. Just somewhere
I can’t bear you. Say instead, Aha!
She’s in discourse with holy mentors.
Be jubilant for me.
Reach with me for the humbling spots.
Process quiet, root in the dirt.
Lessen the self, weigh the exact
measure of nothing. It rains all night,
then a handful of hush, then wind sweeps
like breath across a beer bottle.