This Wanting Space

This wanting space is mine now.

After hours of curating it with meaning,

Losing it all and starting over again and again,

I’ve come back to a seated position among the relics.


What exploded in chaotic color

Now has a devoted space on the walls.

Visitors stop to wonder at it,

Connecting with its forms and blushing tone


All around me now the rainbow of dust has settled

Bodies of possibility erect within reach.

After years of walking above the timberline I’ve come back down

To sit with what is wild, and spoken, and with what is still working its way to the surface.

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