Pinocchio as a Girl

May 7

Pinocchio as a Girl

I should be painting today instead of reframing the future, an unnecessary and ephemeral job at best.  Kind of like lassoing an unborn colt, I try to put a rope around something that cannot get away.  Outcome hasn’t much to do with foregone conclusion and wouldn’t I be better mixing colors and wetting brushes than cutting slices from a pie in the sky?  But tomorrow seems more spacious than this crowded present and I con myself into believing this is a harmless trip to the fair.  I lose my light, my thought, my sight with these thieving sojourns; leaving me to creak around because all that is left is wood.

Nothing gets in the way of something

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MAIL

I form my query

Fold my mind

And mail it off to God

With a stamp of approval from my sponsor

The questions sent are of no great interest

But the responses are a spellbinding group

What is returned unopened

Is a wide array

The circuitous route taken by some

Is a charm of elucidation

I rub my finger over the intact seals

And marvel at the travels of the wax

I mourn over the defunct gods

And their public relations organizations

Slow is my resolve to pour over the replies

I get easily caught in lackings and shy from true contact

The equations embedded in my heart read the letters

And sing the notes; these songs are just for me

I know them like my name

I turn the envelope and see how old the postmark is