by J. Tarwood
Slowly sandy-eyed,
I wait out mist
rising in my head:
Time left behind
is after me still.
I gave up green mountains
and cities
like cold stars
–my life sold off—
to sit in a long room
which flew and flew
while I ate and drank
like a sheikh being wooed.
Now: it’s that new day.
Everything’s bright and white.
You’d think I’d be happy,
but I only want to sleep
like a stone from home.
J. Tarwood has been a dishwasher, a community organizer, a medical archivist, a documentary film producer, an oral historian, and a teacher. After a life spent in East Africa, Latin America, and the Middle East, he currently lives in China, and has published five books: The Cats in Zanzibar, Grand Detour, And For The Mouth A Flower, What The Waking See, and The Sublime Way. He has always been an unlikely man in unlikely places.
Hawaii Pacific Review 