Poem of the Week

Go on out but come back in
you told me to live by, so I went
with my little dog trotting

at my side out of the garden
into woods colored rotten.

I did this several times, out and in,
it was of course a meditation.

The out surrounds me now
a whole invisible O to live in:

tender tantrums, sky gone suddenly gray-
still soften light but no one brings

papers here to sign. The top of the water
shudders under the brush of wind.

Past? Present? Future? No such things.