Wednesday, March 15, 2017

My goal is to make no progress
or move backward to discover
what I might have been thinking
before I started thinking

anything, and to be completely
dishonest it’s going exactly
as planned: What lurks
in the Jungian precognitive

slurry not only accurately predicts
what has come to mind since
but forms the pediment
of an entire way of life,

of baking casseroles, wearing
a peculiar cabbage-colored hat,
watching intently the hula-hoopist,
falling asleep on a perfectly

Sundayish afternoon where
the pine trees creak
in a muffled breeze and Cardinals
radio can be heard crackling

at the A.M. dial’s narrowest point.
I love it, to be honest,
love this plainspokenness
and the lack of direction

that inevitably attends it,
and I also have loved you
after a fashion, have read your
flat words, fixed them in mind

as one fixes an iPhone to a dash
and then watches it while
driving down to Sarasota
on a strangely rainless morning.

• • •

2 Responses to “Honestly”

  1. Edward Nudelman Says:

    Wonderful poem!

    Sent from my iPhone

  2. belz Says:

    Thanks, E.N.! I’ve made some edits since your comment, however; hope you will reread.

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