More Anatta For Will

How it happens without you

if you aren't careful-

every moment is yes very deep

like beyond the wave-breaking point,

every moment is yes very

saturated with gravity,

every moment every moment

every moment

I was twelve years old and the world tasted of chamomile.

Devoured and shaped by the soft gray fog, so long ago and

long before

the tilting scale questions:

Windmill or fracking drill?

Is that a windmill

or a fracking drill?

Balanced on the beam of a branch, and once I was a child,

hello there, and once you were a child, the past is death

it is the truth of death, it is as if it never was,

every moment, every moment.

And do we all know, you and me and

the swelling human sea, do we know the

healing purity of the struggle?

The churning disparity between windmill and

fracking drill?

I almost can be as brave

and as stupid

as myself

yesterday.

But I am learning to make love

out of anatta.

And I will write a letter 

and let myself be golden for a moment more,

a moment, every moment