scribble -

the self centred - a latitude
	near paradise

***

but my life, off - expectaion

to accept fate
my own rhetoric wanting the moment contained in the axe blow 
in clear air - to never argue

against thing seen pure and of itself.  the bird in the tree,
wary of the feeder/ chickadee or bird of what season

what strange wishes, like an alien voice that
is your self, stronger than the body or will
asks

what can we do but be.