the platitudes of willful resemblance

I am St. Juan Grande Pecador in this new life;

unpredictably weeping and loving,

writing poetry and song.

so wantonly tired and worn but not sleeping.

sad that I cannot sleep next to you,

sad that I cannot sleep at all.

I think how I have loved you.

in morning and night,

I think how I love you.

I am St. Juan Grande Pecador

sitting in the sun, contemplating

the vagaries of kitchen table conversation

– Hoc Scripsi