No man is

an island,

save me.

I send up a flare,

build a raft;

not to escape,

but instead

to pursue

my art.

I dig a pit,

cover it

with fronds,

only to find

the pacing cat

beneath

is me.

If this island

is within,

is it not mine?

With nowhere

to go but

further inward,

I spend my days

exploring every

inlet and cranny,

gully and hill,

looking for

something I might

never find.

Today I’m

captivated by

the rounded rocks

tumbled by

the cumulative

persistence of

...what...

brain waves?

Hence, my mind’s

a cove

that churns

out stones;

stillborn eggs,

planetary,

without fecundity.

Yet my heart says

even the lifeless

has value.

If I can make

anything matter,

I will make everything

invaluable.

Take these stones:

to throw, to build,

to carve a hole,

when to merely

hold one

allows me

to feel

held.

Every forest

I’ve ever walked

is here.

I am made

of woods.

When and if

I leave

this sanctuary

never to return,

it won’t matter.

Having seeded

the ground

with my

insatiable yearning,

I will be

my own

invincible Spring.

03/04/24