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Prestine Pines

8/11/2020

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​Prestine Pines
8.24.2019

I come here with the hope that my insecurities will fade with the cell phone signal.

I come here with the hope that I will find enlightenment in the middle of the trees.

It is nearly sundown when I arrive, road weary, tense.

My tent poles won't stay in as I walk to the other side. 

My dinner, cooking on the portable stove, topples over, the contents spilling onto the ground.

I've sworn to leave no trace of myself.

I wash away my spills. Erase my stains.

I drive away still no closer to enlightenment. I am still full of insecurities.

However, I look back and know that I have left no trace.
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    The posts on this blog page are first drafts of poems. The revised forms of these poems will be included in an upcoming volume.

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