Due to some

earlier technical difficulties,

everyone did not receive many

of the previous blog poems

so I am gradually reposting

those earlier writings

until everything is current.

Soul of means

sometimes in witness,

though through a vacant stare

another me, usually quite silent . . .

speaks . . . drawing a line directly

from a conversation of long ago

it anchors in me

and I am pivoted away from now

as attention

it is not towards timeline or task

it is quite simply

and deeply familiar a voice

so full of presence

in beaconing tones

yet so soft the call

for me to step out of the milieu

with heart as ears in hand

these are not words

meant for my mind

to sip and run

for I have no recent identity alive

to embrace them

I am placed by another means

that has no equal

my comparative truth as wardrobe

is set aside

a radiance I hardly recognize

stands in for me

it is my soul of means