I see them like talents the coins of a tarot
card read to glean mastery or riches or prophesy we
all seek to understand and yet rarely
ever?
is there anything before hindsight but continued feet one
step and another in a strong one direction
mind you one direction doesn’t imply straight.
Poems and color fall down like sugar from a sprinkled donut warm and fresh and soft
dough on my tongue I try
to hold them all to not let a single crumb spill onto the ground amongst the dirt and dog hair boot prints and breakfast crumbs
the scent of amber of incense rises up and drifts away and yet I hold it in my mind’s eye
seeking the foothold it offers into heaven.