Garth's Boulder Gardens

Photo from Woodstockings.

Photo from Woodstockings.

I met a man in the desert yesterday

Of far greater years, eyes glistening like hot coals

Amongst boulders, still pools, stretched cowhides—his crystal palace.

I asked if he had a lover 

And he looked at me, dead-on, and remarked,

“The divine did not present me with a partner in this life, and believe me, I wanted one”

I felt my skin turn on fire 

And thought,

God, I hope that’s not me. 

This woman, so endowed with gifts,

Fists full of dreams, songs, and poetry—

What is it all for, if not for love?

Everyday I must cool the fire of my yearnings

Through the expression of these gifts 

So I wonder if love’s withholding

Might be a mechanism to fuel my inspiration

Still, I ask that it won’t be lifelong.

Trust that I am content to be alone,

I go to shows and sway my body to the music

And see the stars imprinted under the black of my eyelids

I take myself for drives

And dissolve into dizzied passing landscape 

And spin myself the mantra that the world is my home.

I soothe my own fears 

I know my place in the cosmos

And I cook a damn good meal

But is it too much to want to hear a man whisper baby in my ear

At the closing of the evening?

I never wanted that 

Until I became too familiar with this sullen, fragile hour,

When primrose sweeps velvet curtain over the sand—

A time that seems to dissolve my defenses.

So for now, I’m star-crossed alone

Maybe I’ve drunk too much of the Kool-Aid, ingested too much Shakespeare

As much as I try to remain detached, 

This zen monk

Who feels nothing,

An empty vessel through which all of life flows,

But does not catch,

I am still a human

Complex and confused

I feel everything, 

And I want to be loved.


Still, I want a love that comes to me

Not teased from stone 

Not pulled upon a string 

But one that walks towards me of it’s own accord

In great swaggering steps across

This torrid land 

Where it’s sung that “freedom rings”