I would catch the fly
and live homeless on promised
land, across the Pacific
“Perserverance as novelty”
they suggested, “hobohemia
for the ages.” I’m not sure I
in Kansas, two taps, but I’d
like to give it a shot. How about
you? Where is home, your
– Aaron Kent
The mist occludes my sight most mornings.
This does not mean I dwell within a cloud.
I have hungered for the desert, returned
to find an entirely new population of sand.
If Buddha dwells in the gap between thoughts,
who fixes His roof, who stokes the stove?
I have learned to love my thoughts, even when
they turn against me. Let me fold a paper boat
for us to float on puddles until swamped.
– Robert Peake