There’s not enough time left to become famous. So I’m just going to sit in my backyard this summer and learn to breathe again. I’m going to hang out in that spot between the divine and the divine. 

If I wanted to become famous (whatever that is), I’d have to readjust everything about myself for that to happen. I’d have to go back deep into the childhood forest and stop trying to empty my mind among the birch trees. I’d have to give up learning to speak to the animals. Horses, deer, various birds. 

I’d have to go back in time and tell myself to give up poetry. Maybe I could have saved myself from obscurity as late as when I entered university when I was 23. 

So yes, I’m going to sit in the backyard this morning and learn to breathe again. Another book behind me now. I’m going to sit and read my favourite old dogeared books. I’m going to read lines from Charles Wright. Let’s start with Caribou. 

“One should live one’s life as an acolyte walking into the temple.” 

“Well, two things are certain –
                                        the sun will rise and the sun will set.
Most everything else is up for grabs.” 

“But not too close, man, just not too close.
Between the divine and the divine
                                                       lies a lavish shadow.
Do we avoid it or stand in it?
Do we gather the darkness around us,
                                                              or do we let it slide by?
Better to take it into our hearts. 
Better to let us have it. 
                                      Better to let us be what we should be.” 

“...this world has been good to us,
                                                       the sun goes up and the sun
Goes down, the stars release and disappear,
                     everything tutta gloria wherever we turn our faces.” 

“What shall I do with myself?
I’m gone, or I am going,
                                         let everyone forgive me.
I tried to make a small hole in my life, something to slip through
To the other side.” 

“Lord,
          tell them the shadows are already gone, the smoke
Already cleared,
                            tell them that light is never a metaphor.”