If it were
up to me
I’d like to 
live without a 
past to just 
show up here 
right now because 
that’s how I 
think that people 
retain the precious 
privilege that life 
is to all
imagine being new
now what would 
you then do 

I just wanna 
be left alone 
not for any 
really real reason 
except for maybe 
I have found 
my burrow my
den and my
dearest and I 
know that there’s 
very little left 
to ever find 

I may be 
round I’m not 
square and as
round I don’t 
fit by force
or will or
wish or whatever 
I am round 
like a balloon 
I am heavenly 
like the world 
or the moon 
or a comet 
streaking through the 
night’s sky setting 
it beautifully ablaze 
I’m not square 
never have been 
no edges here 
which to poke 
or catch or
be cut by
I am round 
round and round 
I merrily go 

All I want 
to ever be 
is a number 
on some door
that something comes 
looking for to 
drop in front 
little else than 
that I’ll be 
if it is 
up to me 

A tilled field 
is never free
from those things 
hiding behind roots
rocks and rambles 
things that surface 
and seen it
seems too late 
back I go
with my hoe
digging up each 
and pitching them 
into small piles 
and picking through 
find the treasures 
to keep and
toss the rest 
those dead things 
never take root