already.
Should I save my dismay for something else?
I had such plans for my garden this year.
It was going to become a clearer idea
of itself (at least.) Easier to glimpse its promise, the rewards of my hard work and intentions.
But
the weeds have come.
They have over-run some
of my best vignettes --
Because I am in the studio working against
a deadline of futility.
hanging between
hopelessness and the need for hopelessness.
Will I ever again love my life?
