Image for the poem All you need is less

All you need is less

I'm not looking for a husband,  
but, out here on the island  
where there's a castaway's view,  
I can tell who might have  
camped the volcano with me  
to discuss the diaphanous  
beauty of secrets  
and the door left open  
to an abandoned excavation  
too succulent to pass.  
Enter here, secret:  
All you need is less.    
Discontentment is a door;    
wanting to laugh hard  
with someone who knows you  
without knowing you    
is also a door.    
But, I'm into entire rooms  
of star where I keep knocking  
around God's furniture    
on this planet called earth,  
forbidding myself to wander    
too close to any real poem  
I could write for fear  
of being discovered.  
There's a graveyard full    
of my poems; I visit    
and offer condolences    
to aborted words    
conceived in desire.    
Reflect on the parts    
of me that remain sturdy    
and faithfully married    
to the human side    
of Life. A woman    
without continents  
or coyotes scratching    
the distance  
between civilization    
and happiness;  
suburbs with Subaru's    
in the drive, homes safe    
in the 3:00 P.M. light  
living methodically.    
Every man and woman    
needs to decode messages    
from their god to make sure    
their dark side wasn't passed    
up for an early sleep    
with a husband or wife    
they wanted but could not Love.  
Loyalty to the colony    
of strays that live    
within the paintings    
and poetry of an unknown    
language few decipher,    
black compositions    
of starry lyrics    
and risen Lazarus    
are true reflections    
of the species    
and belief that I    
am constantly    
mapping a course    
of time through    
by existing simply.    
This altered DNA  
immortally coiled in flesh  
is something that one day  
soon I will remember  
having helped knit.  
Until then...  
A new shipment of hope  
arrived today. God sent me  
spirit guides to keep my Angels    
company through the wait;    
the long haul of packing    
all I've known for the move:    
a white wolf and horse,    
a snowy owl in case    
I choose an alternate route  
and bareback it out  
through the canyon.    
I'm not looking for a husband;  
I left that sixteen years ago.  
But, out here on the island  
where there's a castaway's view,  
I can tell who would have    
camped the volcano with me,  
discussed the preservation  
of a simple and secluded    
togetherness without any    
pomp and circumstance  
too succulent to let pass.  
Enter here, secret:    
All you need is less.  
Isolation is the core  
of my soul's blueprint...  
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