Leave the Leaves Alone

A poem about myself

Eye ask myself

was I being myself or was self-being mine?

Was there ever something to begin with

in the first place because myself was there

and eye saw it myself, or someone's self--

whichever self there was there at the time.

People do bargains. Do trades. Plot the unknotting.

I have learned that people do many things and think many more

and sometimes think to the point of undoing.

Eye have seen myself looking at myself and I looked lookingly.

The whole ordeal was very full of lookery and neglect.

And then self said to myself: Put mud in a jar. Call it yourself.

But my name is taken. I replied myself. Eye have so much to say I just can't deny it.

Stubborn self closed his I's and opened up to the universal.

Do not talk about the leaves, the fragrance, the dove of the sky,

for these things are lame and say nothing but naught.

Nature doesn't rhyme,

self said at last

leave the leaves alone.