LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY
Water people, water upon water sound, the creek music,
Who doesn’t love them?
Only the deaf, I guess, or wind people,
Their strings over the desert sands, and the deep canyon blow-bys.
Who among us can welcome sorrow,
or the sadness of dirt?
Well, empty yourself of all that, empty yourself of yourself.
There are some things that cannot be spoken of,
or thought about.