When doing
do it
don’t think
about doing
something else
be one
and become
the task
disappear but
not into
the mind
but into
the action
and therefore
the moment
Dry
Under the bandage
is a scab
and under it
is a wound
one quickly healed
and the other
that’s become broken
and a place
where pain remembers
nightmare of flesh
a quick reaction
to silent touch
tears that no
longer fall dry
kept in clouds
the sun darker
because of this
Quiet
I’m just not
not much anymore
anything at all
but rather this
much more now
next to nothing
this does compare
others point to
what I’m not
calling it names
but emptiness goes
only by quiet
Loom
This gnawing knocks
yelling its yearning
through certain music
that plucks strings
so tightly woven
that a simple
snag causes everything
else to unravel
now it’s time
for me to
decide to return
to the loom
or close the
door to that
very special room
Not
The getting
is gone
for good
the hardest
of harvests
is over
it’s time
to wash
and sort
to store
and keep
and maybe
tomorrow I’ll
maybe not
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 