The Blue Book


All life is knowing,
you told me,
walking down a forest path,
the trees alive in elemental air
and behind my eyes the seed
that, destroyed, gave life to this wood,
like everything else in this world,
born to be obliterated, but made
with music in mind, and laughter,
and a kind of love like gravity,
tender and suffering and prepared
to forgive yourself for forgetting
again what you have always known,
what I know you know,
still alive here with the trees’ secrets,
singing softly a simple knowledge.


Hard Wired