Memo for the Next Year

When I said I believed in lightness, 
I wasn’t kidding.  Over and over, I return –
not to escapism or fantasy or ostrich necks–
but to dissolving solidity, breaking up the world’s fixity.  

My holidays – as if a wild angel came reeling 
from the wings and slammed into despair – 
as simple as reckless laughter, unplanned, unbidden
or a piece of hot bread with butter and a shard of salt. 

The way of the heart – to be renewed every day, 
no matter how many times the heart breaks. 
Knowing that everything can be transformed 
into something else (see Ovid); that winged

leaps – words in whorls of motion, fugitive
emotion — lead to a poem, and person, that seeks freedom.

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