What's In My Journal
Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean
things, fishhooks, barbs in your hand.
But marbles too. A genius for being
agreeable. Junkyard crucifixes,
voluptuous discards. Space for
knickknacks, and for Alaska.
Evidence to hang me, or to beatify.
Clues that lead nowhere,
that never connected anyway.
Deliberate obfuscation, the kind
that takes genius.
Chasms in character. Loud omissions.
Mornings that yawn above a new grave.
Pages you know exist, but you
can't find them.
Someone's terribly inevitable life story,
maybe mine.
William Stafford
Posted over on Friends of William Stafford
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