self portrait, june 2006

i sit at the
kitchen table
for hours at a
stretch - working
or thinking or
dreaming and
i can look
out the
window
and see
the occasional
bird on the wire
outside - and cars
pass and time passes
and they're building a
house in the distance &
it's great to see the walls
go up slowly.

and i'm having a glass of wine
(california red table wine) and
maybe i'll have another before bed.

and i like where i am this year
as opposed to last year - not
just in a physical sense,
but a spiritual sense,
an intellectual
sense - a poetic
sixth sense tingling,
letting me know it's good,
and the world is still an evil
ugly place most of the time, but
i've found a few spots of beauty
i can concentrate on.

and i'm working (on my own still)
and it's good.

and i still have no furniture, but
i don't need or want it yet. i'm
ok with the blow-up bed. it'll
last a thru a couple more
patches, i imagine.

and my dreams -
the dream -
it's here
in the same
room and i can
feel it. and these
truly are the days i'll
look back on as when it was
easy and simple. and yet i
need to move on professionally
or poetically or whatever-ally
it happens to be.

i still don't look at myself in the
mirror, but the reflection i sometimes
pass doesn't scare me as much.

and i can trust.

i haven't lost that