one breath can begin Anything.
 
 
it doesn’t mean anything.   it’s a moose.

that’s not me.   there are stacks of things not me.
someday, maybe, I’ll be each one of them.   we
take turns.

this time, me.

although rumor is, I’m on my way toward
becoming something else.

might be asked, who’s spreading that rumor.
          confess, maybe me.

a moose has four legs to tell the truth.
I only have two.

yes.   I am somewhat unreliable.   unpredictable.
 
 
I buy books I cannot read.   too tired, when
they arrive.   no focus.   not that a moose
would care.
          more unquenched good ideas.

I’m able to forget almost anything you say to me.
 
 
did you know a gathering of sea otters is
called a raft.   no moose knows that.
that’s why they do.   so they won’t.

won’t drift away.   apart, like me.
I should’a.   see?

no water.   I ain’t that smart.
 
 
abundance is a word that applies to them.
not to me.

more words won’t make better.   but not the point.
wrong font, seems to me.   so why.   because She said.
          because, I do.
 
          here, these words on my tongue.
 
 
maybe a moose is smarter than me.
better landscape anyway.
 
 
               I think a poem can carry one breath.

               what does this breath begin.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
image:   © Delphine Margau,   Delphine Margau Art Photography, France
this image is part of her chapter/series, Under The Woods of Childhood.
kind permission granted for use of this © image.   with our thanks.

yes.   you are seeing double.   same moose as recently.   why?
here’s why.   cause the moose said, I have something different to say.
will you.   will you let me speak.   I am symbol for you.