Not Knowing if I'm Going or Coming

In a dream

I wrote my future

Carefully crafted my last years

in words, my own voice

which said

I could create the future in Oaxaca

there would be time to write

not speeches for others’ voices,

but poems

about color

corn

birds

music

Have you heard the saying

You write because you must?

Who said that?

I must,

though I don’t know why

I don’t know why

I’m thinking about forgoing a condo in Berkeley

I don’t know why

I’m so scared

or why it must be Oaxaca

And I must start over again

My friends are here

Grand Lake Hardware, Berkeley Bowl, Cole Coffee

beloved church

the sweet old dog, longtime partner in life

he might stumble

on Oaxaca’s gritty streets

What if my writing isn’t any good?

27 years ago I moved across the continent

I worried to death, how would I iron my clothes?

When I arrived, I bought an ironing board.