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I tend to think it's not the answers
but the questions that stay the same
Where between my routines
and imagination to put the blame
Wiggle the mastic
keeping order where not due
Gush through fences
into other views
Outgrow espaliers and
wind out over rooftops
Sloth is: not hating
whatever pulls ones strings
I wonder how many thoughts from yesterday
That I think again today
I wonder, taken as is it,
if memory is needed this way
Rooting is stagnation
Rooting is stagnation
I'll ask you: where's the adventure in being settled,
and you'll say: things don't happen (by) themselves
You'll say: love, we will be more than habit
we will never be moving sideways
I'll say: love, the past is the past
and we won't ever stop chasing, death away