What the Muses Leave Behind

since   you decided to say yes and sensed now and believed possible, this road is yellow brick listen you say yes just so luck will unwind from bone and tendon it felts new geography like moss to stone and now yes twins no work twins play bliss twins sorrow all side by side kith and kin when you find river yes rims the banks it rides a downpour fills the well and rises deep and clear yes worry is an old cat let it nap in the sun what vexed you drink like silver song how dusty a traveler you were   now you open like a door hinges oiled – it’s ok          life is ready and vast a kudzu invasion a mayfly hatch each moment a menu           today is hungry a Serengeti plain and your legs are long wings wide - don’t wait kiss the road of yellow brick make it yours with yes.

“ Well, I made you take time to look at what I saw…” – Georgia O’Keeffe 1954 she paints the canvas Winter Cottonwoods East V - it’s a thrifty landscape burnt umber raw sienna mars brown it adores assumptions of sleeping sap, her alabaster basks us in the fresh winter light - with breath of gray trees fill the thin air, each knobby body surrenders its precise edge like fabric fraying in steady wind - their stomata breaths quench a thirsty sky. 2004 o’Keeffe lives in painted canvas Winter Cottonwoods East V, I'm inspired with the landscape burnt umber raw sienna mars brown I’m flush with sandy canyons, weedy with tammarisk smudged with sage, and grateful for my assumptions of the Cumberland Rim - I swap the mirror over my bed for her naked cottonwoods in open sky, they quench a soul thirsty for such thrift.