On cleaning out the office

finding dim artifacts, dusty
from deserts of intention—
my mind of years ago
(other side of plenty rivers)
petrified in printouts

these dry seed-pods, rattle-trap,
those butterfly thoughts
pinned proudly to cards—
on what would they feed
if breathed back to life?

13 thoughts on “On cleaning out the office”

    1. Exactly. It can be a very strange feeling to know I was the one who strung all these words together…and not remember much of that making. Of course, when the kids were young, I used to get up and write very early in the morning, so perhaps that’s why the details are blurry. 🙂

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