To possess few things,
humble in beauty and worth.
Such simplicity.
Wabi-sabi
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To possess few things,
humble in beauty and worth.
Such simplicity.
The spareness of what
I write contrasts with my
cluttered existence.
Foggy days. The shroud
of mystery that veils our
ordinary lives.
I take better care
of my mother’s possessions
than of her, she’d say
Home from the party
they’re luminous like fireflies
settling down to sleep.
Their lives loves failures
all source material for
future film projects.
Couplings and breakups
compelled by senior year some
begin others end.
With no school Monday
so much high drama surrounds
turning seventeen.
I worry for her.
Her safety – his obsession –
cannot coexist.
Well-loved now. Rescued
he was matted with feces,
eyes begging for home.