self reliance (not)

I want a belly full of passions

with salt enough to tend the field

I want reminders that what fills

the body is not which suspends the soul

I want a back forty gaze

to see at least a look and a half too soon

I want landscape impressions at the tips of my toes

terrified to fade

I want the Saint of Reason

to promise

were not as close to Hell as it seems these days

I want birds nest echoes

of babies at Spring

Ecclesiastic fountains on cedar shelves of our ancestors

certain waters that don’t wane