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Threadbare old tomcat

Snores all spring in the rocker

Mewing like a child

“I have had my dream — like others —
and it has come to nothing, so that
I remain now carelessly
with feet planted on the ground
and look up at the sky —
feeling my clothes about me,
the weight of my body in my shoes,
the rim of my hat, air passing in and out
at my nose — and decide to dream no more.”

Thursday by William Carlos Williams

Wet, cold, windy May

So unlike Carolina

That geese have flown south

Dreamer tried to tie

A complex knotted lanyard

For my tarot deck

Seen through the window

Crape myrtle tossed in a storm

By the heat pump fan

Moss hiding in the root

In each root’s shadow

Emerald moss huddles safely

On the beaten trail

“
Let’s face it. I have been momentary.
A luxury. A bright red sloop in the harbor.
My hair rising like smoke from the car window.
Littleneck clams out of season.

She is more than that. She is your have to have,
Has grown you your practical, your tropical growth.
This in not an experiment. She is all harmony.
She sees to oars and oarlocks for the dinghy

I give you back your heart.
I give you permission –

She is so naked and singular.
She is the sum of yourself and your dream.
Climb her like a monument, step after step.
She is solid.

As for me, I am a watercolour.
I wash off.
”