I trim my hair in the garden,

remember the school teacher who said 

every sentence cannot begin with I.

I seemed selfish then. I felt embarrassed to be known.

I was all I really cared about.

If you stand still long enough, a bluebird will separate 

your hair from the clover and take it to its home. 

Stiller, and its mate will eat the white-spotted disease 

inching toward you.

It’s not so much the thoughts, but the observation of the thoughts

that interests me.

Why the risk of disease and not the actualization of death?

Why clover and not the honest ryegrass?

School teachers became so human when I turned thirty. A great disappointment 

to realize everyone is just guessing.

All my talent is in waiting for small eggs to hatch—

a treasure I cannot touch. 

The babies are so translucent you can see their dreams. 

Shell-memory; soft belly full of worm. 

What's unraveling is my ambition for more.

I’m out until the sun has sunk. I have devoted my life to this. 

What good is craft advice when at the edge of art?

Every great observation was made by a child:

God’s toenail hanging in the sky;

Thick crescent left in the basin.